


Comes Knocking

by Pearsforgranite



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Crossover, Gen, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:37:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearsforgranite/pseuds/Pearsforgranite
Summary: When the supernatural begins wreaking havoc in New York, the Avengers are at a loss of what exactly they're up against. Saved by 2 brothers, the Avengers open their home and team to the Winchesters.Sam and Dean, used to working under the radar, find publicly teaming with the Avengers a completely new experience. 'Saving People, Hunting Things' is no longer just 'a family business'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was posted already (has been up for over a year), but I deleted it accidentally. So here I am re-posting it.

Sam and Dean both winced at the earsplitting shriek the 125 year old spirit unleashed as it was consumed by flames. Its end moments spent futilely reaching out towards the burning locket containing the last of its remains. Despite having witnessed the death of countless spirits, Dean and Sam still found the burning sight of deceased Edward Brahams, terrified and howling in pain, tragic. In those moments it didn't matter that he had caused terror and mayhem to a family with young children. When Edward was finally gone, Dean stubbed out the glowing embers of the charred locket with the toe of his boot. The brothers took a moment to collect themselves and wait for Edward's screams to stop echoing in their ears. Dean was the first to break the silence.

"Well, that was friggin' horrible."

Sam tiredly rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath, "Yeah."

Bending down to retrieve the iron rod he had dropped during his fight with Edward, Dean continued, "I don't know, man, shouldn't we be desensitized or some shit to burning monsters by now?"

Sam frowned as he gathered the salt and lighter and began packing their gear away, "Edward wasn't really a monster. He was a little kid whose asshole parents abused him. Anybody could have become the same if they had been brutally beaten to death by their own family at just 10 years old."

Sensing Sam was about to embark on a psychological spiel and wanting to nip it in the bud, Dean hurried towards the stairs that would lead them out of the basement, "Whatever. Let's just go tell the MacAllen's their house is clean so we can get out of here. I'm starving and wanna grab some greasy pizza before we leave the city. Maybe they know a place in our price range."

Sam shook his head at Dean's stunted response to the discussion of anything remotely chick and followed him out.

This latest hunt had brought the brothers to New York. A family living in a Manhattan brownstone had reached out to the brothers, having been referred to them by the Ghostfacers. Turns out Ed and Harry retired after the debacle with Slenderman and had, surprisingly, recommended the Winchesters to deal with the haunting. When Sam had called Ed to confirm the case, he confessed that he and Harry were mild-mannered now; he was the branch manager of his local Kinkos and Harry was working with his father-in-law. They kept the website up in case anyone needed help. Sam nodded in agreement to Dean's commentary of how non-douchey that was of them.

Dean's grumbling began almost immediately after they left the MacAllen's and turned onto the sidewalk, "I don't like leaving Baby behind." He looked over his shoulder at his beloved Impala sitting in the family's open garage, "All alone in a new city while I'm blocks away. Anybody could snatch her." He scanned the upscale residential area with a squinted eye, clearly expecting Baby Snatchers to be lurking behind the trash cans just waiting for the opportune moment.

"Dude, nobody wants your gas-guzzling piece of -" Dean glared, affronted "- fine craftsmanship." Sam huffed out a finish. "Seriously, it'll be fine. It was actually really great that they let us leave it there. Street parking would've been a nightmare. And hey - free pizza! You love free pizza" he coaxed. "...you love free anything."

Dean scoffed, "Oh yeah, what a deal - 'save our lives and we'll give you pizza money'." Dean stopped, rethinking his words, "Actually, that is awesome. We should start charging in food - free pizza!" His eyes grew large when he was struck with brilliance, "Goddamn free pie! What a wasted opportunity! Aren't you supposed to be all educated or lawyer-y, Sam? Where the hell were you on that?"

Sam rolled his eyes and shoved at him to continue moving, "Just keep walking, food whore."

"Connoisseur."

"If you weren't long, you'd still be a pig."

"What?"

"Cause we're long-pigs, get it? If you weren't a person, you'd be a pig."

"...Bitch."

"Jerk."

  
*********  


Flying above the fight, Tony could see one of Dr. Doom's science fair rejects approaching Steve. Tony called out "Cap, on your 6!" through the comm and then launched a mini-rocket at a bot trying to grab Natasha's right leg.

"Thanks Ironman", Steve returned as he ripped the head clean off the tottering robot that had been behind him.

Looking around Union Square Park at the scene, Steve was happy to note there were only 5 bots left to take out - 4 were being taken care of by the rest of the team and one was on the ground about 20 meters to his right, slowly, but surely, making it's way towards him.

When the alarm to assemble had gone off 30 minutes prior and Coulson informed them Dr. Doom had made yet another appearance in the city, Steve and the rest of the team were mostly just annoyed. Luckily no civilians had been injured. The most severe casualties were a few yellow cabs dented in the scuffle. At this point, Dr. Doom was a D-list villain at best and Steve was admittedly a little grumpy that his Bob Ross had been interrupted for this ruckus.

Coulson had correctly described Doom's robotic entourage as "underwhelming", but Doom himself clearly didn't agree as he continued to brag they were indestructible while they were being destroyed. It made for strange and pitiful commentary. His robots walked like they were all suffering from inner ear infections and only about 1/3 of their hits actually landed within the vicinity of any avenger. The rest of their shots accidentally hit fellow bots or, on several occasions, their creator.

There was a cheer through the comms from Clint as he took out his last bot, "Fucking finally. We can go back to watching Dog Cops." Steve watched as Bucky and Clint high-fived over their love of their favourite show and turned to him and simultaneously let out out a sarcastic "Language!"

Don't get him wrong, Steve loves that Bucky has become so close with the rest of the team so quickly, but he kind of wishes that the bonding medium hadn't been embarrassing Steve stories. Trading mortifying events from Steve's rather eventful life had yet to get old with the rest of the team, especially when they found Bucky to be a veritable goldmine.

A noise at his feet caught his attention. Remaining Robot #5 had finally reached him. Using his shield he decapitated the last of Dr. Doom's minions - a legless bot that had been slowly dragging it's torso towards Steve for the past few minutes. Where it's legs were, Steve had no idea. At this point of Dr. Doom's obvious decline, he wouldn't be surprised if the mad scientist had just plain forgotten to give his creation legs. Attaching his shield to his back, Steve made his way to the rest of his team.

Tony landed in front of Dr. Doom, who was looking around at the mess the avengers had made of his 'indestructible' robots (his babies!), and addressed him,

"Doom, man-"

"Doctor", Clint mockingly interjected.

"-are you alright?" he flipped his faceplate up and picked up a crushed robot cranium. Doom let out a soft little sound of grief at the action. "Because I gotta say, these are not your best work." He wagged the mangled head for emphasis and an eyeball fell off. "And that is saying something, considering your best work is still worse than something my bot could cook up. And his name is literally Dummy."

Clint took over, "Have you ever thought of a more productive career in a different field?"

"I hear McDonald's is hiring." Bruce suggested as he approached the group, wearing nothing but stretchy purple shorts.

Dr. Doom let out indecipherable noise of rage and made to attack them all, but Natasha threw three widow bites at him and he went down like a tranq'd rhino. Bucky snorted and muttered something in Russian at her and she smirked.

Tony gave one clap of his hands and addressed the group, "I propose leaving the metallic moron and his metal minions here for Shield to stumble upon while we go eat. All in favour of pizza?"

Both of Clint's arms shot into the air in favour, coming down only long enough to yank Bucky's metal arm up alongside his. Steve opened his mouth to intercede, but Tony cut him off, "Cap, you lost your vote when you used a bad-language word two days ago. Remember that? Something along the lines of the Red Sox going to Hell. So crude. So vulgar. You have a problem and forcing you to eat pizza and avoid a Shield debriefing is the only way I know how to get through to you." At this he put his hand on Steve's shoulder and in earnest stated, "My name is Tony and this is an intervention so prepare to be intervened."

Steve still looked like he was going to object so Natasha uttered something in Russian. In response, Bucky looked at Steve and laid it on thick with his best brooklyn accent,

"Come on, Stevie. We can go to that joint in Brooklyn we used to go to when we were kids. Two blocks down from Mrs. Carol's place. Remember we went on a double date with Stacey and that redhead? Talk about gams for days." Steve rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what his bestfriend was doing.

"You're a jerk and that accent is shit."

Bucky smirked at him while Tony gasped in the background and grabbed his chest, 'Steven! I never!'.

"And you're a punk. Pizza?"

Steve swung his arm around Bucky's shoulder and started walking, "That place is closed now, my date's name wasn't Stacey, it was Susan, and you should remember the redhead's name, Buck - she was your date."

Bucky shrugged, "As far as my memory is concerned, she was literally a pair of gorgeous legs growing out of a head of beautiful red hair with lips like octopus suckers."

Bucky's hair flew forward as Steve knocked him upside the back of his head. "Real classy, James. Imagine if Patty's grandchildren could hear you (your date's name, by the way)."

Bucky ducked Steve's hand again as he cackled, "Think any of her granddaughters inherited her deep-sea mouth?"

"Bucky!"

The group made their way towards where Happy was parked in an SUV. Tony had called him as soon as he had taken out his last doom bot and was hankering for pizza. Happy had just hopped out to greet them when the screams began.

Steve turned towards Tony, who spoke before Steve could, "I'm on it!" Tony immediately flew off in the direction of the screams, "I'll let you know what's happening." The rest of the team followed on foot; Steve and Bucky tore down the street much faster than the others.

As Tony approached the pandemonium a few blocks away, people were fleeing in the opposite direction - away from what appeared to be a random guy in a red, white, and blue tracksuit just standing still and laughing maniacally.

"J, what's the deal? Alien? Mutant? Good old fashioned psychopath?"

Jarvis took a second to assess, "He appears to be completely human, Sir, and unarmed."

"Yay, psycho for the win!"

"Hooray." Jarvis' dryly supplied, "Nonetheless, may I suggest caution being exercised going forward."

Tony landed about 20 feet behind the man, "Caution is only good for throwing at aggressive air, J. Have you learned nothing?"

Jarvis didn't deign to respond and Tony could practically feel the A.I.'s disapproval as he took a few steps towards the crazy who had yet to notice Tony's presence.

"Greetings, Patriot! I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but you're coming across as slightly unhinged. You suffering from an extreme case of Runner's High gone bad or something?"

The man's head whipped around to look at him. Tony's genius noted the degree was exactly 180. As in, the back of his body was facing Tony, but the front of his face was now also facing Tony. Tony let out a startled "Fuck!" and stumbled back a few steps.

"Ironman! We're a block away. Report!" Steve's voice was in his ear.

Tony took flight as the man twisted around so his entire body was now facing Tony,

"I don't know! He looks like a normal guy, but he just Linda Blair'd his freaking head" - he ignored Steve and Bucky's confused 'what?' 'who?' and Clint's excited 'awesome!' - "so I'd say he's officially abnormal. Jarvis, zoom in on Linda's face." Tony felt a chill go down his spine as he saw the man's eyes, "His eyes are completely black. No whites. Just black. Jarvis says his physiology is human and he's unarmed. I'm assuming some sort of mutant we've never seen...or just the anti-christ."

He flew over to where Bucky and Steve had just rounded the corner and landed. The man was facing all three of them, still standing and chuckling at nothing. He made no move to confront them. Steve decided to wait for Bruce, Natasha, and Clint to catch up before taking action. Looking around he saw people still huddled inside stores and restaurants, watching the scene from behind the window fronts with their phones out recording everything. Bucky shook his head in disgust,

"What is with people and filming everything? Goddamn internet is sucking the commonsense right out of humanity's brains."

"Alright, Grandpa, don't break a hip." Tony calmed, "Remember the internet is also responsible for your ability to buy all that Dog Cop paraphernalia you think we don't know about."

Steve added, "Which actually reinforces your commonsense statement."

Rounding the corner, the three remaining avengers were met with the sight of an embarrassed Winter Soldier lightly blushing under the teasing stares of Tony and Steve. Bucky just liked dogs, okay?

"Guys?" Bruce prompted.

Bucky's semi-frantic pointing and desperate yell of "Monster! Over there!" was very suspicious. For all the smooth charm and silver-tongued way with words his past self had, present Bucky could be just as bad as Steve when it came to hiding something from people close to him.

Natasha took in the scene and asked, "What's the play?"

"And did we figure out what's so funny?" questioned Clint, staring at the manic, tracksuited 'monster'.

"He doesn't seem interesting in sharing the joke", Tony replied.

"Stay back and cover me." Steve instructed as he approached the smiling, but now silent 'man' with caution, "State your name and business". No response. Steve was now within 5 feet "I'm going to have to insist you state your name and business or else you will be coming with us to Shield." Quicker than even Steve's heightened senses could detect, the man crossed the distance and with a shove of his hand sent Steve sailing all the way back to his team. The hit rendered him unconscious.

"Steve!"

"Cap!"

Immediately the rest of the team drew their weapons and began firing. The thing just laughed and let the hits land. If it was knocked down it simply got back up. The Avengers fought fruitlessly for almost half an hour when the entity spoke for the first time,

"Pathetic. You're supposed to be the most powerful this race has to offer, but you're all so powerless. Running around like vermin. I can't wait until you're all under our rule. It's going to be so easy."

The man charged at them, but before he could reach them several gunshots rang out and he fell to the ground, howling in pain. Looking for the source revealed 2 men in their 30s crouching behind a yellow cab approximately 40 feet to their right. A tall one was holding holding a sawed-off shotgun while the other had a gun and a medium sized hunting knife in his hands.

  
*********  


Sam could only stare in horrified rapture at the unsightly scene that was Dean eating pizza - cheeks stuffed full to bursting with each morsel on display as he chewed with his mouth wide open. Emitting stomach churning slurping sounds as he sought to suck up the pizza-tanged saliva that dribbled down the corners of his mouth.

Completely unaware of what a disgusting sight he was to behold, Dean paused mid-chew to attempt a salacious wink and smile at a couple of women who stiletto'd by as the brothers ate outside of Joe's pizza in Manhattan. Sam could only assume the look of revulsion they threw at his brother was currently mirrored on his own face as they stood eating. Dean's food-mangled, "Hello Ladies!" was accompanied by a chunk of half-devoured pizza, which spewed forth as if to grab the females as they hurried away.

Looking surprised at the reaction, but not at all put-out, Dean simply shrugged and continued to shovel his second favourite kind of pie down his gullet.

Noticing Sam had only eaten half of his first piece while he had almost finished his second, Dean spoke up, "You don't like the pizza?"

"You are disgusting."

"What?"

"You're like a pig eating slop. A pig with the unholy ability to unhinge his jaw and hoover the whole world down his throat as it tries to escape the gravitational pull of his stomach."

Dean frowned and looked down at himself and his remaining bit of pizza, "So..you like the pizza?"

Sam exasperated, "Dude!"

"Sammy, you should know by now that your primadonna routine is wasted on me." He once again focused on Sam's food, "If you don't start eating your hard-earned free pizza within the next two seconds, its automatically forfeit to my slop bucket."

Sam let out a distressed sound as he tightened his hold on his plate and moved back a few paces out of Dean's reach. "Stay away! Just because I prefer to savour my food like an actual person instead of guzzling it down like an animal, doesn't mean you can steal it."

Sam was about to take another bite when the screaming began.


	2. Chapter 2

Pizza forgotten, both brothers watched as a panicked herd of people stampeded down the street, completely disregarding traffic while weaving in between honking cars. The wave of people was too thick for drivers to open their car doors; instead opting to escape via sunroofs and abandoning their cars to the pandemonium.

"What the hell?" Dean watched as a guy attempted to climb over a car only to slip and fall off onto a man whose wife, in retaliation for squashing her husband, punched him in the face. "Jesus."

"Terrorists?" Sam asked, amazed at the chaos that was a complete contrast to the relative peace of 2 minutes ago.

"No explosions or gunfire." Dean observed. "Let's get Baby and get out of dodge before we're stuck in whatever this is."

"Dean! We can't just leave in the middle of a crisis! We could help! They may need us!" Sam was aghast at Dean's apparent apathy in the face of possibly injured or dying people.

Dean wasn't heartless. Abandoning probable people in need would weigh on him for a long while, he knew, but he couldn't risk getting Sam involved when there would be police and suits all over the place.

"Sam, this isn't our gig. We'd just be getting in the way. If it is terrorists, we don't know the first thing about navigating that sort of shit storm. Let the professionals handle it." Dean could see Sam was gearing up to interrupt and hurried on, "Professionals who, by the way, were looking for our mugs for years. It only takes one agent or officer to recognize us."

"That was years ago. They all think we're dead. They'd never remember us now, let alone connect us in this confusion." Sam argued.

"Sorry to say, but my Blue Steel was an unforgettable masterpiece. I'd be recognized in a heartbeat." Dean played out the worst case scenario, "Say we do get caught, Sam. You think they're just gonna chalk up our presence as a coincidence? Hell no. We'd become 'Official Suspects 1 and 2' in as many seconds."

"Shit." Sam realized Dean was right. On the off chance they were recognized, they'd be apprehended and blamed immediately. Sam looked around again at the mess of screaming and crying people and conceded, "You're right. We need to leave. Now."

Grabbing Sam's pizza, which Dean could not in good conscience leave behind (not when he was already leaving people behind!), Dean led the way down a side street which would take them away from the mob and towards Baby. They were able to cover several blocks before the side street ended and they were swept up by the hysterical sea of people. The push and pull of pressure from all sides was immense and unlike anything the brothers had ever experienced. Without any hopes of breaking free, Sam and Dean had no choice but to allow the current to take them along and hope that they ended up somewhat close to the car.

Fortunately, the further away from ground zero, the calmer people became and instead of screaming at each other, they started talking to one another. Sam and Dean eavesdropped on a conversation bickered between a couple in front of them:

"What the hell was that thing?"

"Some yahoo hopped up on paint fumes or bath salts; whatever the junkies are into these days. All I know is that Brian had better not be doing any of that crap. Going to 'band practice', my ass!"

"You think this was drugs?! Did you see it's eyes - completely black!"

"...Maybe it was contacts?"

"Contacts! Barry, are you stupid? It's eyes were perfectly normal one second (a little crazy, sure) and then complete blackness the next. How in God's name would he have been able to put in contacts in less than a second, Barry?!"

Barry, not to be cowed, bit back, "Well, it obviously has to be some newfangled technology the kids have these days. Or maybe huffing salts and paint makes your pupils dilate. I'm no doctor."

Ignoring Ruth's muttered, "No. Really?", Barry continued, "And don't bother saying it - I already know what you're thinking and it's completely ridiculous."

"Well, then how do you explain the head spinning, huh? Humans don't exactly spin their heads clean 'round, Barry. It's the supernatural breaking through."

Barry, knowing he wasn't going to win and just too beleaguered to bring up his robot theory, let out a defeated, "Okay, dear." and mindlessly let the flow of people guide him as he tuned out his wife's impassioned ranting about satan and exorcisms.

Sam and Dean stopped dead in their tracks in shock.

"Move it, assholes!"  
"Get out of the way!"  
"Watch it!"

Jarred into motion, Sam apologized as he and Dean used their combined strength to muscle their way out of the road and into an alley. "Excuse us! So sorry!"

"We have to go back now." Sam stated the obvious.

"Demons? Really?" Dean all but whined. "We have got to get around to killing Crowley soon. Maybe make a day of it. Get pizza afterwards."

Ignoring Dean, Sam took inventory of their weapons, "I've only got the sawed-off with 2 salt rounds in the barrels and 1 in my pocket. You've got the knife, right?"

Dean pulled up his right pant leg showing the knife in his calf holster and took out his handgun, "Yup and I've got a clip full of salt rounds."

"Still not enough if there's more than one demon. " Sam worried. "What the hell are they even doing here drawing so much attention?"

"We'll worry about all that when we get there." Dean advised. Looking around he took stock of their available exit routes, "There's no way we can push through that crowd. We're gonna have to go up."

Sam watched as Dean pulled down the stairs of the fire escape at the end of the alley and followed him as he began climbing up towards the rooftops.

They were about two rooftops away from their destination when they saw something that made both of them stop in awe.

"Oh my god. Is that -" Sam started.

"Ironman." Dean finished in a hushed tone of reverence usually reserved for Dr. Sexy.

They could only gape as Ironman reappeared in the air shooting rockets at something down on the ground.

"Screw angels, demons, and Chuck - it's freakin' Ironman!"

Sam also couldn't contain his excitement, forgetting for the moment that they were here for a terrible reason, "If he's here, then the rest of the Avengers are probably around here too!"

Making it to the edge of the last rooftop before the scene, they looked down and almost fell off as they saw the Avengers on the street below fighting. They could do nothing except watch in astonishment at the synchronized sight the Avengers made before them: Ironman flying above launching rockets, Black Widow shooting widow bites, the Winter Soldier firing with cold precision, and Hawkeye releasing arrow after arrow, all exploding bullseyes. They were willing to bet Bruce Banner was around here somewhere waiting to Hulk out if needed. It wasn't until they noticed a downed Captain America that they stopped gaping and went into professional hunter mode.

"Shit. Cap's down." Dean actually took in the scene and realized the target was a single guy who was swatting off their attacks like mosquito bites. Knowing immediately what they were dealing with when he saw the eyes ('Fucking demons') he double-checked his clip and flicked off his gun's safety. Following suit, Sam took out the sawed-off he had stored under the back of his shirt.

"Let's come up from the right. We'll have a clear shot, but enough cover from the cabs that Tracksuit will never see us coming."

"Got it." Sam agreed.

By the time they made it to their cover, they could clearly see the Avengers were running out of energy, ammo, and ideas. It was a ludicrous scene: a single jogger beating 5 Avengers without breaking a sweat.

"Alright Sammy, I'm guessing the meatsuit has been dead for a while now, given how many times it's been shot, so shoot for the head and I'll aim for the heart."

The brothers simultaneously took a deep breath, aimed, and fired.

The shots silenced all noise within the vicinity except for the howling of the demon laid out on the ground. It went against every fiber of Sam and Dean's m.o., but they had no choice but to abandon their cover and make their way towards the demon in front of the hundreds of people watching from store fronts and office buildings.

As soon as the demon saw Sam and Dean Winchester approaching, it's eyes went wide in panic and it started struggling to get up. "Fucking Winchesters?! What the hell are you doing here? I didn't think you knew how to leave the backwoods of middle America!"

"Heya!" Dean greeted, "Oh no, don't get up on our account." He raised his gun and shot out both it's knees completely. The demon fell back down onto the pavement with an agonized yell.

Sam stepped up, "What the hell is Crowley doing having you up here so publicly? I thought he preferred subtlety when interacting topside."

Looking around at the their audience, Dean added, "Subtle, you ain't. I know Crowley, unfortunately, and this isn't like him at all."

The demon, unable to keep from bragging, divulged, "That's because Crowley isn't in charge here. That pissant wannabe-King has nothing on who's really in charge and what's actually going on. He's ruined Hell and is going to pay in blood."

Sam and Dean watched as the black flicked away, revealing manic eyes, "I can't wait to flay his skin from his face and feed it to that hellhound bitch he loves so much. I was a General before Crowley took over. A goddamn General! Powerful, feared, and respected. Now I'm a nothing but a laughingstock. All because of that midget salesman. I should've -"

"That's a damn Greek tragedy, really." Dean interrupted, "but if Crowley isn't in charge, then who is? What are you doing here?"

The demon looked at them and let out a gargled laugh as blood began to bubble up out of it's mouth, "What, you think because you ask nicely I'm going to spill state secrets? Get bent."

Sam took the knife from Dean's hand and crouched down until his face was mere inches from the demon's, "Then we won't ask nicely."

Finally realizing the danger it was in, the demon opened it's mouth to smoke out, but Sam brought his hand up to block it's exit and stabbed the knife into it's heart before it had a chance. They watched the last flickering moments of the demon's existence before pulling the knife out and standing up.

  
******  


"Uh...what?" Bucky ineloquently questioned as they all watched two lumberjack-looking dudes take out the seemingly indestructible tracksuit in under 5 minutes. Not only that, but -

"Did it look like he was afraid of them?" Bruce voiced exactly what Bucky had been thinking.

"Completely." Natasha nodded. "It was like he knew them."

The three individuals had been far enough away that nobody could hear what was said during the brief interaction.

"He did know them." They all looked at Clint, who tapped his hearing aid, reminding them all he could read lips. "I couldn't get anything the two flannels were saying with their backs to us, but he called them the Winchesters. I'm sure he said something about Hell and a Crowley, but the blood made his lips hard to read and they covered his mouth before stabbing him."

"Looked like they electrocuted him." Bucky stated, wondering about the type of weapons they were carrying.

"Today is a weird day." Clint complained. "Can it be over now and we try again tomorrow?"

The team tensed when the two guys began making their way over; however, they were all distracted by Steve's groaned return to consciousness behind them. He had been passed out for the entirety of the fight. Feeling like a semi-truck had run directly over his head, Steve very slowly sat up.

"What happened?"

Bucky was the first one at his side helping him. "Easy, Stevie. Easy. You were slugged pretty good by Black-eyes."

"Demon." They all tensed and turned towards the newcomers, who had stopped a few feet away.

"Wanna say that again?" Tony planted himself in between the two strangers and his teammates.

"That was a demon." The shorter one supplied. "You know, Hell, fire, brimstone?"

"What kind of crazy are you?" Tony asked incredulously, while Clint piped up from behind,

"Like Dan Brown 'Angels and Demons'? Like an actual demon demon?"

The shorter one looked up at the taller one with a "wtf?" look on his face and looked back at Tony and Clint, "I dunno any Dan's, but yeah, demon demon."

"Drink. I need a goddamn drink." Tony, completely done, put his faceplate back down and walked away as Natasha stepped up and Clint began circling the two, looking for additional weaponry.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Natasha leveled them with a stare that, if they hadn't been seasoned hunters, would've made them hunch over in submission. As it was Sam couldn't help fidgeting as he responded.

"Uh...nobody and nothing? We were just eating pizza when we -"

"Shit! My pizza!" Dean realized he had dropped his pizza on a rooftop when he spotted Ironman.

"- heard screaming." Sam completely ignored Dean's idiotic priorities and continued. "When we found out what was happening, we knew we had to come help."

"And what exactly was happening, again?" Bruce questioned a few feet away where he was looking Steve over. "You honestly think we're going to accept demons from Hell?"

As the group seemingly raised a collective skeptical eyebrow, Sam reasoned, "You all interact with the magical and multidimensional on a weekly basis and you can't spare some belief for the supernatural? Heaven and Hell are both very real and very active. What you just fought against was a man being possessed by a demon."

They disregarded Tony's voice faintly coming through his closed faceplate, "Straight. No ice. Two - no five, six? fingers."

Bruce, after verifying that Steve was finally able to maintain a vertical position, approached, "You understand this is difficult to believe as what you're saying implies the presence of an afterlife and, more notably, a God."

"Uh, yeah," Dean confirmed, "but don't get too excited. He's a bit of a bum." Sam elbowed Dean for his disrespect towards Chuck. "Also, he's kinda hashing crap out with his sister at the moment and is M.I.A."

"Who says you can't add an umbrella to a $2000 diamond cut scotch glass? I've earned it, damnit." Clint, having performed an ocular pat down and ascertained the two men carried no other weapons, went over to Tony and patted a metallic shoulder in comfort.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPN and MCU timelines (in case you were wondering):  
> SPN is after Season 11, but, for this fic, Mary didn't return.  
> MCU is after Civil War, but, for this fic, everyone kumbaya'd and are now copacetic.
> 
> One last thing - Dean in this chapter is the most OOC I'll actively write him. I was just having fun writing a geeked out Dean (mostly at the beginning).

The law enforcement that Sam and Dean had anticipated remained strangely absent as they stood under the silent scrutiny of the Avengers, each of whom were working through Dean's casual revelation of a hoboic God. Sirens could be heard several blocks away, but it was clear they weren't moving any closer. Wanting to capitalize on the moment before the masses converged on their little group, Dean, firmly mid-fangasm, was hoping he could get away with a group picture. Or maybe they'd all sign his arm? Did the Black Widow give out hugs?

Unlike Dean, Sam had no delusions of Avenger autographs and made to end the interaction before they couldn't get away cleanly. "This has been amazing, really, truly an honor meeting you, but we should be going. You're all probably super busy (he didn't hear Clint's muttering of "Dog Cops") and we've got places to be, rooftop pizza to retrieve, you know how it is." He grabbed Dean's arm and began backing away, looking for their best exit strategy.

"But..." Dean looked from Sam to the Avengers with longing.

Sam, seeing his brother's inner fan was about to spin out of control, burst his bubble immediately.  
"No, Dean. Just...no." As Dean's face fell, Sam compromised, "We'll get you a signed Captain America bobble-head off e-bay or something, ok?"

Not to be haggled down, Dean shook off Sam's hand and, his brain high on fan-dorphins, slowly opened his arms as he took a meek step forward, eyeing Natasha Romanoff with hope.

Bewildered glances were exchanged between Natasha and the rest of her team at his tentative approach. Not one to suffer fools, Natasha gave Dean an icy look which made him shrink into himself from rejection and ruthlessly parroted Sam's words, "No, Dean. Just...no."

"Harsh, Nat." Clint couldn't help but cringe in second-hand embarrassment for the dude approaching his teammate looking for a very ill-advised hug, "Harsh."

Trying to get the situation back on track (the events had taken a very strange turn), Bruce turned to the taller of the two, "So if he's Dean, then you are?"

Before Sam could whip out a classic rock alias, a new voice answered from the left of the group, "Sam Winchester." Turning, Sam and Dean blanched at the balding suit that had approached the group without them noticing. "Brother of one Dean Winchester."

"Agent!" Tony greeted in surprise at Coulson's stealthy appearance, which managed to startle even Clint and Natasha. "We need to get you a bell. How long have you been lurking over there?"

Ignoring Tony, Phil Coulson addressed the two brothers, "We are going to need you to come with us."

"Who the hell is 'us'?" Dean's question dripped with belligerence.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Looking like he was attempting advanced quadratic equations, Dean struggled to untangle the spew of words while Sam understood immediately, "SHIELD?!"

Dean stared at the agent in horror, finally noticing the black SUV creeping around the corner, presumably to cart them away never to be seen or heard from again. In summation of their current situation, both Winchesters let out an emphatic, "Balls."  
**********  
"At least no handcuffs", Dean jazzed his free hands, attempting to 'glass half-full' the situation for Sam as they were marched into a large, empty conference room.

Sam scoffed, "Yeah, because we're surrounded by how many super soldiers and spies? Each of them could probably take us out in seconds with their hands tied behind their backs. Handcuffs are ridiculously moot."

Accompanied by 10 agents, all carrying semi-automatic weapons and a plethora of hidden deadly gadgets, Sam and Dean knew they had stepped in it.

Back on the street, surrounded by SHIELD, the Avengers, and hundreds of iPhoning civilians, the brothers hadn't had any real choice but to get into the SUV and go wherever SHIELD wanted to take them. Dean had at least been hoping that he'd get to ride with one or two Avengers, but they had all piled into another vehicle. He and Sam had been sandwiched between 6 agents, all of whom were silent as they had their weapons out, ready for whatever potential threat Sam and Dean posed.  
**********  
"Anyone want to tell me what the hell happened that 2 supposedly dead men were able to take down an assailant that proved too daunting for the combined force of 6 of you?" Nicholas Fury's one eye made sure to linger intimidatingly on each Avenger as he menaced over them from the head of the table.

Tony raised his hand and piped up, "To be fair, Cap slept through the entire thing and Hulk cut class." Leaning over, he addressed Bruce seated two chairs down, "What gives, B? Too cool for school?"

"It wasn't a Code Green." Bruce gave Tony a stink-eye as he defended himself. "Yes, he gave Cap a run for his money for his ability to "do this all day", but he wasn't actually hurting anyone. Aside from taking Steve out, he didn't make a move against any of us; he just stood there taking the hits. Smashing seemed a bit unnecessary."

"And I did not sleep through the entire thing!" An indignant Steve spoke up. "He didn't just hit me. It was like he did something else to force me under - a spell maybe?" Looking around at his teammates, his voice turned grave, "I've never experienced anything like that before. Nothing has been able to knock me out flat for so long - no weapon or drug that I've encountered." He shuddered in remembrance, "I...I think those two may have been on to something."

"What? About demons?" Tony scoffed across the table at him and caustically added, "If Heaven and Hell and God exist, then I'll eat my 1859, first edition 'On the Origin of Species' during Sunday Mass."

Wanting to get to the bottom of the situation before the meeting devolved into it's normal squabble, Fury looked to Natasha for an unskewed account.

"After he took out Steve, each of us launched a full scale attack." She looked around at her tired teammates in sympathy, "We gave all we had. I used every single one of my bites and my bullets. They all hit, alongside everyone else's, and he just shook it off, laughing the entire time like we were some great joke. He called us vermin and, in terms of a power comparison, he wasn't wrong. If I had to guess, it was a reconnaissance mission to gauge our resources and power level, all of which he found underwhelming."

Fury pushed, "Approximation of classification?"

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, only to close it when she realized she didn't have an answer; she actually had no clue what to say.

"I believe it." The three words were uttered with a solemnity that was at odds with Clint's normal demeanor. No one said a word as he continued in a hollow voice, "There was an incident when I was in the circus - I saw...something...that I never understood. After what we witnessed today it makes a lot more sense." In a lighter tone he amended, "Well, in the way that any of this shit could possibly make sense."

"What did you see?" Tony prodded, his curiosity trumping his sensitivity.

Clint just shook his head, unwilling to discuss it any further. Whatever had happened, the impact was deep enough that Clint was still clearly unsettled over 30 years later.

Nick Fury knew he was one stoic motherfucker. To survive as long as he had in this business, one had to be unshakeable and, as cliched as it was, expect the unexpected. One also had to learn quickly from mistakes. He could admit that he had grown comfortable; optimistically believing that the combined efforts of Shield and the Avengers could defeat any threat. Finding that a solitary, innocuous-looking humanoid could so easily make a mockery of his team, churned his gut uneasily.  
Fortunately, one also had to know how and when to collect allies instead of enemies.

Turning to Coulson he asked, "What do we know about the two day-savers currently stewing in Conference Room D?"  
**********  
"Hey, asshole! In the black with the gun - I want my damn phone call!" Dean's aggressive and annoying demand of his rights went unheeded.

"They're all in black with guns." Sam was slumped in the chair across from Dean, elbow on the table, and hand propping up his head, which he shook in response to Dean's illogical logic:

"I'm casting my net wide in hopes I'll get one of them to answer."

After marching the Winchesters into the room, the 10 agents had proceeded to line the perimeter and silently monitor the situation with guns on prominent display. Chaffing under all the eyes, Dean had proceeded to badger every last one of them. He was about to start again from the top, but was interrupted by the door opening (the harassed agents all let out a quick breath of relief for the respite).

Sam and Dean didn't think it was possible, but the guards stood to even more attention when they saw it was the balding suit entering. Everything about the man was generic and nondescript. From the top of his head to the sole of his shiny, but not too shiny, sensible shoes - the man mastered the art of mild and forgettable. If it wasn't for his discreet aura of power warning the brothers that he wasn't one to be messed with or underestimated, Dean would've continued badgering every non-Sam entity in sight.

"Good day, gentlemen. My name is Agent Coulson. If you would please come with me, Director Fury would like to make your acquaintance."

Though they had no idea who this twice-occurring secret agent man was, they sure as shit recognized the name Director Fury. Severely outmatched, Sam and Dean had no choice but to stand up and follow a blandly smiling Agent Coulson out of the room.

Traveling once again with an armed escort, the two Winchesters trailed behind Agent Coulson as he led them through a series of winding hallways. Arriving at a set of plain double doors, the Agent dismissed the guards. Opening the doors, he ushered them in, "After you, please."

Stepping over the threshold was akin to stepping out of their lives and into an alternate universe.

Despite everything he'd seen and done, standing once again in front of the collection of infamous faces was surreal to Sam. He wasn't one for fanaticism (Dean was plenty of that for the both of them), but he couldn't help the surge of excitement that raced though his veins as he faced so many bonafide superheroes. If Sam was excited, he knew Dean must've been plotzing. Looking over at his brother, he was slightly embarrassed to be related to the wide-eyed, semi-hyperventilating Dean.

"Dude, chill." Sam tried to discreetly whisper out the side of his mouth.

"Hey, Blue Steel!" Clint gave an enthusiastic thumbs up towards Dean in greeting (he could appreciate a quality Blue Steel when he saw one).

Before each Avenger was an open folder, thick with information on everything Winchester. They all saw the exact moment Dean registered the folders, as he underwent a rapid shift from Superfan 99 to the deadly threat featured in the pages before them.

No longer idols, but potential enemies, Dean locked eyes with Director Fury and demanded his and Sam's release.

"You have two options: you either let us walk out of here peacefully or we'll fight our way out. You saw what we did to that demon. Your group was powerless. Easy or hard, either way, we're leaving." Dean was serious - if it came down to attacking Captain America to escape, then so be it. He'd call Cas if he had to.

Also, a bit miffed that this was the thanks he and Sam got for saving the day, he continued, "You know, from where I'm standing, we saved all your asses. You should be thanking us instead of detaining us like criminals."

The charged beat of silence as Fury and Dean stared each other down, was dispersed by Tony.

"Aren't you the Queen of Drama." he remarked. "Why doesn't her Highness just sit down and have a drink. Water? Tea? Coffee? (I'm thinking decaf for you)"

"Uh, we're good. Thanks." Sam took a seat and shrugged at Dean's betrayed look. "Just sit down, Dean, and let's listen to what's going on and what they have to say."

Wind officially out of his sails, Dean huffed down into the chair beside Sam at the end of the table. In front of each Winchester, Coulson placed a copy of the folder the Avengers had all read. Upon opening, the brother's were met with two mug shots: Dean's prized Blue Steel and a very petulant, puppy-eyed Sam. Before they could peruse the contents further, Director Fury addressed them.

"We seem to be getting off on the wrong foot. You are not here under duress. You are here because it seems that we are at a distinct disadvantage and need your help. This is what I know: today my team was laughably outmatched by something never before seen and then two flannel-flocked civilians swoop in out of nowhere and take it out in a handful of minutes. After rambling off something about God and demons you actually expect us to just say, 'Ok. Have a nice day!'" Fury shook his head. "That's not how this works."

"Director Fury's right." Captain America supported. "We need to know what you know, how you know it, and come up with a contingency plan if demons become commonplace in the middle of Manhattan."

"But the folder...it can't contain a glowing review of our past achievements. You're really not arresting us?" Dean questioned.

Fury finally took a seat, glanced at Coulson and the rest of his team, and confessed, "I don't know what the hell is going on in this folder. According to it's contents the both of you are apparently necrophilic Satanists with an affinity for rising from the dead." He gave the brother's a disturbed once over. "Please tell me that's wrong."

"Well, the first bit is definitely wrong."

Ignoring that implication for the time being, Fury put the boys at ease, "We are not arresting you. We just need to know what the hell is going on; if what you've told my team is true. Looking into your history proves you've been doing something very...unique with your lives, which is a commonality of everyone in this room. We're willing to listen."

Sam exchanged a look with Dean and received a nod to go ahead. Taking a deep breath, Sam began the insane task of bringing the Avengers and SHIELD up to speed on the Supernatural and their lives as hunters.

Throughout the brother's incredible and frankly life-changing explanation, Natasha could feel the colour draining from her face. She didn't want to believe them, but having lived a life that was more lie than truth, Natasha Romanoff knew when someone was lying and these two were not.  
So when they detailed Heaven and Hell and the dynamics of an afterlife, she had to clench her fists so tightly her palms bled to keep from passing out. She looked across the table to see Bucky staring at her, the same thoughts running through his head. The both of them, out of everyone here, were the most tainted. They had done some truly unspeakable things, especially Natasha. To know now that there was an actual Hell waiting for her when her life inevitably ended in a horrific fashion...her brain migrained in revolt at the very hint of further contemplation.

At least Bucky had a good excuse, if God listened to that sort of thing. His brain had been hijacked by Hydra so he wasn't truly at fault. For just a moment she was filled with a sick sort of envy, but one look into his haunted eyes erased all traces of that sin from her system.

A crushing feeling of hopelessness settled deep into her bones. She'd been running away from her past for so long that she never once thought to run from her future. At this point she had no idea where to go or how to get there.

Edging her thoughts away from the darkness that threatened to consume her, Natasha took a deep breath and, having nothing to offer Bucky, turned her attention back to the brothers just as they finished speaking.

Aware that he and Sam had just served up a bit of a mind fuck, Dean let their audience have a moment. Taking a long pull of the beer that had been delivered 30 minutes into 'Supernatural 101', he took in everyone's reaction.

Fury and Coulson had yet to so much as shift in their seat, listening stoically for the entirety. The rest of the room's occupants were much more expressive. Unsurprisingly, the most colourful reaction belonged to Tony. Multiple times Clint and Natasha had to reach over and stop him from interrupting, no doubt on fire to scientifically disprove everything they were saying.

Bruce looked like the only thing holding him back were his manners. He was clearly bursting with the same type of questions and statements that plagued Tony.

The second most interesting person to witness was Captain America. As soon as Sam began speaking about Heaven and individual paradises, Steve's face lit up. Eyes wide and awe-filled, he looked like the brother's were confirming every lyric of "Jesus Loves Me" from Sunday school.

Clint somehow managed to look both mind-blown and smug all at once. Dean had no idea what was going through his head.

The reactions most relatable to both brothers were those of the Winter Soldier and Black Widow. They tried to hide it, but Sam and Dean could see the fear and horror in their eyes - when your life's work is ending others, the sudden reality of eternity in Hell is beyond comprehension.

Beside him, Sam leaned back in his chair and stretched out his arms and legs and looked at Dean, silently asking, 'Now what?'. As the silence in the room started growing awkward, clearly no one knew how to proceed, Dean cleared his throat and hesitantly asked,

"So...I guess, uh...questions?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if anyone noticed, I stole that last line from awkward, SPN convention, Chuck!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for future: Jarvis and Vision will both exist. Yes, it's a little weird having two different entities with the exact same voice, but I'm not a fan of Friday so Tony somehow managed to recreate Jarvis or he had a back up or whatever reason you need to float your boat.

The explosion of noise that answered his tentative question was deafening. Obviously, Dean had expected a bit of an interrogation, but the insane chaos of the response had him letting out an overwhelmed whoosh of breath.

Beside him a wide-eyed Sam was leaning back in his chair, as if being physically pushed by the sheer volume.

Everyone was gesturing emphatically while talking: at them; at each other; to themselves (Tony). At the head of the table sat an unimpressed, yet unsurprised, Fury. This disorganized group of rowdy adult-children was a frequent sight to his poor eye.

A sharp whistle cut through the cacophony, leaving a stark silence in it's wake. The soothingly mild voice of Agent Coulson spoke up, "An orderly fashion might be the best way to proceed. Captain Rogers, if you'd like to go first?"

"Colour me shocked."

"He's still not going to sleep with you."

Ignoring Coulson's faintly pinking face and the inappropriate jeering from Tony and Clint, Steve asked the first question, hope coloring his voice, "So angels and God are really listening to our prayers?"

Dean had never been described as delicate.

"God is definitely not. He's wins 'Worst Parent of the Year!' every year by a landslide. Chuck's the dad that's too busy playing video games to care that his kids are biting each other and burning the house down. And the angels...a few of them might be listening and give a slight damn, but to a large portion of the heavenly host we're nothing more than 'useless mud-monkeys'."

Looking at the crushed expression on Cap's face, Dean maybe regretted his choice of wording, but he wasn't going to lie, though he did try to soften the blow. "A handful of them are alright...sometimes. Our best friend is actually an angel, but he's definitely an exception."

Sam stepped in before Dean actually made Captain America cry. "The thing about angels is that they're warriors. They're not guardians in the sense that they're caring and nurturing, they're guardians in that they're literally guarding the universe from evil. Much of their existence has been spent as soldiers following orders so they can be pretty militaristic."

Bucky, knowing that Steve had been praying to God and angels his entire life, laid a hand on his shoulder in commiseration and squeezed. Steve smiled wanly at him and remained silent, afraid to ask anymore questions in fear of the truth.

Sam really had no choice but to call on Tony next. He had seen the hand shoot up halfway through his angel explanation and watched as it started waving with a frenetic energy that only increased the closer Sam came to the end of his sentence.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Quick question - exactly how tall are you?"

Looking confused, Sam answered, "6'4"."

"Impressively taller than Captain America, but still not quite as tall as that tale."

"Excuse me?"

"Listen, not to call Bullshit!, but...Bull and Shit"

Tony wore an unapologetic look of disbelief as he eyed the brothers. Throughout their information dump his brain had been in overdrive, flashing theorems behind his eyes as to why almost everything God-related they were saying was impossible.

Tony's genius fetus brain basically spent it's stint in the womb disproving the existence of a God, so as a self-proclaimed atheist since birth, he just wouldn't accept the lark of a higher power. And if he was honest, he'd admit that he desperately didn't want one to exist. The idea of a creator who allowed all the shit that happened in this show...well, that was infinitely more terrifying than being greeted by an unending abyss when his diode finally blinked out.

"I could provide the jargon, but I have a feeling I'd be wasting my time and at $1000/hr, it's a terrible thing to waste". Tony ignored his teammates eyerolls and continued. "All I can say is that if angels and demons are real, then how is it possible they're not monopolizing the news. I'm having a difficult time believing something this monumental has been kept under such tight wraps. Especially after what happened today."

"They don't usually make such a public scene." Dean replied, "They generally operate one soul at a time."

"Also, subconsciously, people are incredibly selective. Whether it's their hearing, their sight, or their comprehension. If people don't want something to exist, then it just doesn't, no matter the evidence to the contrary." Sam had decided to bring up a common trait of the people and clients he and Dean interacted with in their line of work. "Why do you think any of you even know what a vampire is? What a ghost is? What a demon is? Because people have encountered them and told others. People who, instead of being thanked for their information, were laughed at and labeled crazy. Despite everyone's vehemence that it doesn't because it can't, the supernatural still exists. It's best to recognize and accept it so you can fight and survive it."

Bruce appreciated Sam's argument, but had a counter, "Yes, most people possess a cognitive selectiveness that renders them partially blind and deaf, but when backed by centuries of scientific data on our biology and universe, it's less of a subconscious selection and more of an active discard of the irrelevant or just plain non-existent." He tried to be as civil as possible as it was clear Sam and Dean truly bought into what they were saying. "I don't mean to insult everything you've just told us or your apparent 'life's work'."

Providing a concrete example, Sam detailed their most recent case. "The poltergeist that brought us here: an upper class family moved into an old brownstone. Full of bumps, creaks, and cold spots, the MacAllen's rationalized it as the settling of a drafty house. When items started falling off shelves, it was because they were uneven. When their daughter repeatedly woke up screaming with claw marks bleeding down her arms, she was doing it to herself while suffering from night terrors (of which she had no prior history). They had been normalizing all the abnormal happenings because they just couldn't believe in an abnormal alternative. Until one morning there simply was no other alternative - they were sitting down for breakfast and the cutlery started trying to cut them instead of their food."

"Unless you want to call us outright liars, what's your explanation?" Dean couldn't keep the aggression out of his voice.

After a beat of silence, Bruce looked to his science brother for assistance, "Please tell me you have something sufficiently science-ridden to explain that?"

"Acid."

Becoming fed up with the so-called geniuses, Dean presented the most empirical evidence he had.

"Dear Angel of the Lord, Castiel, wanna get your feathery ass down here? There's a Hulk and a Tinman starving for some crow."

Alarmed that the brother just summoned an unknown entity into SHIELD headquarters, Fury tried to issue a warning, but was interrupted by the sound of fluttering wings and the shocking appearance of a - Fury squinted his eye in confusion - a tax accountant?

Not one for personal space (unless it was Dean's it seemed), Castiel appeared immediately and almost on top of the eldest Winchester, with his back to the room.

"Hello, Dean. Sam." Castiel's deep voice greeted.

"Holy shit!" Clint was up halfway out of his chair, instinctively making for the vents.

Tony had his palm out, forgetting he didn't have any blasts left in his portable hand repulsor.

Aside from Coulson and Fury, no one actually had weapons or ammo, having depleted their supply against the demon.

Natasha discreetly ripped the corner of the bright blue folder on the table in front of her and began making a throwing star which, despite it's smurf-y appearance, would be every bit as lethal as a metallic one when she was finished.

Fury could see his team was about to erupt into a confused mass of fighting and fleeing. Taking in the smug look on Dean's face, he took out his gun and demanded an explanation, "You have 5 seconds before your guest is shot."

Feeling inordinately pleased with himself, Dean made the introductions, grandly gesturing between the two parties. "Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers, meet Angel of the Lord, Castiel."

A bemused Cas turned to the rest of the room's occupants with an awkward wave, "Hello", and listened to Dean's quick rundown of what was happening - that he and Sam were trying to convince everyone of Chuck, etc.

Everyone took a second to breathe and assess the arrival of what appeared to be a frumpy tax attorney (clearly pro-bono).

"That's an angel?!" Steve couldn't keep the disbelief and disappointment out of his voice.

"What is with the get-up?" Clint asked. "Cause I'm really not in the mood for a lecture on the fluctuations of the DOW."

"Isn't he supposed to have wings? I thought I heard flapping." Bucky could've sworn he heard fluttering or something bird-like the second before he appeared.

"Is the halo not an actual manifestation then?" Bruce added his two-cents.

"No harp?" Tony tossed in his own change.

Castiel blinked blankly at them in response before ignoring them completely and looking at Dean.

"I brought the crow you requested. You didn't specify a desired preparation so I simply retrieved it on my way here as it was flying home to it's nest."

To the horror of everyone present, he then proceeded to pull a live crow from out of the ether seemingly contained within his sleeve cuff.

Cawing madly while furiously flapping it's wings, the spazzing crow tried desperately to escape Cas' grasp. Not wanting to distress the animal more than necessary, the angel stroked a grace-laden finger down the bird's neck while calmly muttering in Enochian. The bird immediately settled, letting out a contented little squawk as Cas stroked another finger down it's feathers.

Satisfied the animal was sufficiently comforted, Cas looked back to Dean for direction, only to be met with the familiar sight of him - palm to forehead. The sound of laughter drew his attention to Sam who tried to explain.

"He didn't mean they were actually hungry and wanted to eat a crow as a meal. It's just a phrase meaning they needed to be proven wrong."

"I see. One of those idiom things again." Looking down at the crow, Castiel couldn't help feeling a sense of relief that they wouldn't be ending her life.

Reacting to Castiel's apparent idiocy, Steve, once again couldn't keep the disbelief and disappointment out of his voice as he repeated,

"That's an angel?!"

The Avengers began a barrage of trolling commentary.

"The halo was probably replaced with a dunce cap."

"It's nice that him and his bird have the same size brain."

"Is it just me or does that trench coat make it seem like he's about to 'show us his wares'?"

Listening with growing ire to the ignorant irreverence with which his celestial presence was being treated, Castiel allowed just a hint of his eardrum-bursting true voice to bleed into his tone as he spoke.

"As a celestial being, my true form, which I've had to cloak due to the fragility of your dull senses, is the size of your Chrysler building. My true voice would render you deaf. My true visage would render you blind. To truly appreciate my grace would render you dead."

Shivers and goosebumps broke out over everyone.

"I have seen the dawn of your time. The dawn of many times. Do not mistakenly believe that because I have not chosen to waste the magnitude of my cognizance on familiarizing myself with the colloquialisms of your trivial language, that I am unable. As a warrior of heaven, a Commander singled out by God Himself, it is absurdly beneath my capabilities; therefore, my time."

"I am here only because Dean Winchester has called for me. As is within his rights as both the Righteous Man and as my friend. If I deem you worthy enough of my attention, it will be only in the capacity of which you are of assistance to Dean and Sam Winchester." He paused to stare at each person who had dared to make a derogatory comment - Tony, Clint, Bruce, and Steve.

"The next time you choose to address me, the words will have been chosen wisely and delivered with respect."

Dean and Sam hadn't encountered this severe and defensive side of Cas in a while. Nowadays Cas was generally cucumber-like in his coolness and the jokes and jabs dealt by the Winchesters were received in good humor. It was so easy to forget what being an angel truly meant because Cas was so interested in delving into humanity and learning from the Winchesters. They tended to view him as a younger brother – the image of a slurpee-serving, 'scared of sex' Cas was usually at the forefront of their minds when they interacted with him. They were both humbled by the reaffirmation that Cas really did make an exception for them. Sure, he loved humanity and sought to protect it to the greatest of his ability, but he was also insanely higher up the food chain than all of them.

"Anybody else just pee a little?" Clint shifted a bit in his seat.

Tony's world view was pretty stagnant when it came to the existence of angels. That some uppity dude in a pervert trench was calling himself one, only served to prove his theory right - they didn't exist. But he also could not deny that he had felt very, very small, almost insignificant, as he and the team were being scolded. It almost felt like Castiel's voice and words got heavier the more he spoke; carrying the weight of eons of experience and knowledge. Tony shook his head, sounding crazy even to himself. He was getting a little too close to the kool-aid. He turned his attention back at the new guy only to be pierced by intense blue eyes and the same weighted voice.

"Your mind is strong, impressively so; however, it is a strength that doubles as your greatest weakness with it's ferocity to stand firm against a shifting paradigm.

In the blink of an eye Castiel disappeared from Sam and Dean's side and reappeared behind Tony. He placed his hands on either side of his head, touching his temples.

"I will remove that aspect of weakness for you."

The entire room watched with baited breath as Tony's eyes went from panicked, to shocked, to awe-filled, to joy-filled, and then serene as tears began trailing down his cheeks. The emotional slideshow lasted no longer than a minute.

Castiel removed his hands from Tony's temples and laid them on his shoulders, anchoring him back to his mind and body. Tony took a deep shuttering breath, closed his eyes, and let out a very quiet, but grateful, "Thank you."

With a gentle squeeze of his hands on Tony's shoulders, Cas let out an equally quiet, "You are very welcome, Tony Stark."

Stepping back, Castiel dropped his hands from Tony and surveyed the room, settling on Bruce for a second. Seeing as he was well on his way to fully believing the truth (if reluctantly), Castiel let him be and flew back to Sam and Dean's side to tend to the crow he left sitting on the table.

"What the hell did you just do?" Fury demanded. Turning to a roofied-looking Tony he barked out, "Stark report!"

"I merely eased his acceptance of the reality he had already known to exist, but would never accept on his own: that this existence is not as cold, small, and desolate as he had tried to convince himself." Castiel explained.

"Tony?" A worried Bruce looked over at his best friend.

Tony wiped his eyes and calmed down his spooked team.

"Guys, it's fine. I'm fine. Better than fine actually." Turning to Steve he said, "Its a good thing eating crow is just a phrase, because it looks like my plate is going to be full of 500 pages of Charles Darwin theory. Yum."

Turning to the rest of the room he stated, "It was amazing. I don't know what else to say except that he's legit holy shit."

Acting out of character, a skeptical and angry Bruce snarked, "So what, you're going to start attending Sunday service just because some random bad touched you?"

"Brucie, baby, I get it. You're brain is hardwired for science and sacrilege - that was literally me 2 minutes ago." He gestured to Sam and Dean, "But these two are telling the truth. The dude holding a crow is an actual Angel of the Lord because those are two things that actually, mind-blowingly, exist. When it came to religion, I know we thought everyone had opened their minds so much that their brains fell out, but it turns out some of them might actually not be mindless, kool-aid addicts."

It was true, he and Tony had poked sciencey-fun at religion and it's zealots; however, Bruce used believe in God. Throughout his abusive childhood, Bruce had sought solace in faith. If his life hadn't taken such a terrible turn, he knew he'd still believe; however, he was just too angry and hurt now. It was easier to believe God didn't exist rather than the idea that his life had been so horrific because God thought he deserved it.

So, Bruce listened to Tony's impassioned speech, but could only think of one thing to say in response that wouldn't obliterate his friend's feelings (of which, Tony had many, though he pretended otherwise).

"No comment."

Bruce turned to Natasha and Bucky, "You two are awfully quiet. Nothing to add?"

Glances were exchanged between the two in question before Natasha spoke up.

"What Sam said to us after killing the demon was right - we deal with so much insanity on a daily basis that one more insane thing isn't difficult to accommodate. I'm mostly just relieved we have two field experts who know what we're up against and how to fight and win."

Bucky nodded in agreement to Tasha's words and shrugged nonchalantly. "We've dealt with giant snakes, giant robots, and a giant snail - what's a giant dude in the sky?"

Fury and Coulson could tell just by looking at each other that they were on the same page. They were both so used to crazy shit that they agreed with Natasha - essentially, what was one more thing? As long as they had access to the Winchesters to prevent another Apocalypse, then they were confident the Avengers and Shield would succeed against this new enemy. Though, Fury had to take a mental moment when he learned just how many times the world had been terrifyingly close to ending.

"Thank you for your assistance today. We're going to have to ask you to stay close for a few more days. Just to ensure we have our information correctly documented and categorized before you leave the realm of arms reach." Fury requested.

Sam and Dean hesitated. Affording food and a motel in some middle America, podunk town wasn't a problem. Those small costs could be covered by fake credit cards or their healthy income from pool hustling. To afford those necessities in Manhattan was not an expense covered by petty theft.

"Uh, the thing is...we, uh..." Sam trailed off and threw Dean a "we're poor and it's awkward" face, so Dean picked up the slack.

"We're poor. It's awkward." Dean ignored Sam's exasperated 'Dean!', "You got a place we could crash? Cause I ain't sleeping in my car with Gigantor over here."

Looking pointedly at Tony, who threw up his hands (my tower's not a damn orphanage!), Coulson assured them, "I think you'll be more than happy with the accommodations we have in mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't meant to have Cas make such a grumpy first showing, but the chapter kinda got away from me. He won't be so severe towards the avengers after this. I also thought about having Cas just do a wing flare, but angels seem to only do that in large spaces, using shadows to outline them. His wings are too large to accomplish that in a brightly lit conference room. I'm assuming anyway. :/


	5. Chapter 5

Barbara and Richard MacAllen could only stare in bewilderment at the spectacle that was Dean Winchester reuniting with his car. They'd been watching the news waiting for updates on the day's dramatic events when a loud, urgent cry of "Baby!" pulled them outside. There in their driveway, within full view of their neighbours, was Dean, star-fished to the side of his vehicle. The couple exchanged WTF glances as he began stroking the impala, murmuring what sounded like sweet nothings into its mirrors.

Dean's relief and pleasure at reuniting with his car after only 6 hours of separation was extreme. He knew this. He also had a vague awareness of his voice being too loud and too high when he first saw her, but it was overshadowed by the sheer joy of seeing his beautiful impala. He'd been worried that in the stampeding panic of earlier, vandals or, Chuck-forbid, Baby-snatchers, might have gotten to her. Seeing her gleaming exterior, completely unharmed, imbued Dean with a sense of stability, which was sorely needed amidst the current insanity. Through his haze of impala-induced happiness, he could hear Mrs. MacAllen speaking to him, but she was ignored in favour of reassuring Baby.

"Uh…Mr. Winchester? Is everything alright?" There was no reply, except for the whispered croonings of 'Baby… missed you…big city, all alone…'.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's animistic relationship with his car and addressed the couple.

"Thank you for letting us leave it with you. We really appreciate it. Especially with all the chaos of earlier today."

Looking at his watch, Sam couldn't believe that it had only been 6 hours since he last saw the family. It felt like a week. Judging by the way Dean was still clutching at his car, it had felt just as long to him.

"After everything you've done for us it was the least we could do. Speaking of which –"

"Barbara, no!"

Barb ignored the frantic whisperings of her cheapskate husband as he tried to stop her and forged on – "Speaking of which, do you have a fee or an hourly rate? We can't in good conscience not offer to pay you. You essentially saved our family today and all we did was give you pizza money." She glared at her husband as she made her point.

Sam put her husband's worries to rest. "No, no - we're just glad we could help you before it was too late."

Dean had finally stopped stroking his car and nodded in agreement, "Food is our preferred method of payment."

Before his wife could insist further, Dick MacAllen cut in, "Well, if you're sure!"

Dick was eager to usher them out and away from his money-hemorrhaging wife as soon as possible. Not to mention, he wanted any and all reminders of this strangeness out of his life.

"I'll bet you boys need to be on your way and we wouldn't want to keep you." He gestured to the end of the driveway, "Looks like someone's already waiting."

The SHIELD agent who had driven Sam and Dean to their car stood in the driveway like a spectre as he watched the interaction, making sure the brothers retrieved their vehicle without issue.

Taking in the black suit and black, unmarked SUV, Dick immediately thought of serious law enforcement…or mafioso. Yes, the Winchesters helped him and his family, but these two were the rough and uncultured sort he couldn't afford to be seen having a pow-wow with in his driveway. Never mind that the shorter one was a real live episode of "My Strange Addiction - I'm in love with my car."

"You're good to go, Chuckles. We won't skip town." Dean told the agent, having had his fill of SHIELD for the day.

"Yes sir." 4 pairs of eyebrows rose at the respectful address. "Do you require directions or further assistance traveling to Avengers Tower?"

The jaws of Barbara and Richard MacAllen dropped and they stared flabbergasted at Sam and Dean. Barb thought they were nice boys. A little rough around the edges, but they were kind souls. And although she wasn't about to use her teenage daughter, Abigail's, terminology of "stupid hot", she could see they were, indeed, rather attractive. Though they certainly didn't appear to be part of the calibre of people who associated with Tony Stark and Captain America.

Sam assured the agent he and Dean knew how to get to the tower and that he could leave.

The agent nodded once, hopped into the black SUV he had been standing beside, and drove off. Unbeknownst to the Winchesters, he didn't drive far. A block away he switched vehicles and waited for their departure. He was under strict orders from Agent Coulson to tail them and make sure they made it to the tower without issue.

Mark Carolle was a senior agent and had been with the division for almost a decade. He highly respected Phil Coulson (everyone at SHIELD did) and any orders coming directly from him were Priority 1. He didn't know who these two civilians were, but if he, with all his experience, was assigned the grunt work of a simple tail job, then he knew they were heavy-hitters.

As Sam got into the Impala, Dean was faced with Dick's meaty hand extended to deliver what appeared to be a hot and greasy handshake. Wanting the get in the brother's good graces in the hopes that he could pry the details of their association with the Avengers, he was taken down a peg when Dean looked at his hand, looked him in the eye, and then ignored him to once again thank his wife for the pizza.

Feeling a petty thrill as her husband was snubbed, Barb enthusiastically waved as they backed their boat out of her driveway. "You boys take care!"

Those flannel outfits really were quite eye-catching.

They had barely cleared the corner of the yard when they heard Barbara lay into her husband, "Richard, you really are a Dick!"  
************  
"Does anyone else feel like scent marking the furniture real quick before they get here?" Clint asked as he settled into his favourite chair on the communal floor of the tower.

The team had just arrived back from Fury's debriefing. After dismissing the Winchesters, Fury had discussed the logistics of their new situation with the Avengers. He and Coulson were adamant the press not get their hands on the truth of the situation. At least not until they were able to provide concrete solutions. The last thing they needed was mass hysteria. The 20 minute lecture boiled down to: we need them so don't be dicks and don't talk to the press.

"Ok, 1) Umm, eww. 2) If anyone gets to rub their junk all over stuff, it's me, considering it's all my stuff and my billion dollar tower being invaded – current company included, Barton." Tony bypassed his teammates as they all sat down on the various chairs and sofas delineating the lounge/entertainment area and went directly to the bar for a drink.

Ignoring Tony, Clint wiggled around in his chair hoping to make the already prominent buttgrooves even more pronounced before the two Winchesters arrived and tried to claim it. It was a cloud of a loveseat, great for two, but absolutely perfect for one lounging, tv watching Hawkeye.

"Hey, grab me a beer while you're over there!" he demanded.

Tony watched as Clint continued to permanently disfigure his $10,000 piece of furniture and, ignoring his request, proceeded to sit down with the rest of the group, drink in hand.

"Where's my beer?" Clint had finally stopped giving the chair a lap dance, confident his prints were ingrained into the cushion beneath him.

Taking a nice long sip of his gin and tonic, Tony let out a very refreshed, "Ahh" and selfishly pronounced, "You don't have beer here; I have beer. In fact, based on the unspeakable trauma you've put my beautiful loveseat through, I'd say you owe me about 60,000 beers."

Clint rolled his eyes and stood up to get himself a drink.

"I know you're a functioning alcoholic, Tony, but the amount of alcohol you've hoarded away in here is an actual fire hazard." Clint deftly hopped over the bar, grabbed a bottle, and popped it open. "I'm just trying to keep this place up to code one beer at a time." Striking a pose, he took a drink.

"You're about as effective as a fart in a mitt, Barton."

"Will you two shut the hell up?! Jesus Christ!" Bucky erupted, unable to listen to the inane squabbling that made up the majority of Clint and Tony's conversations. Usually he found them entertaining as hell, but at the moment he was still trying to distance himself from the shit he'd learned earlier and listening to them wasn't helping. Realizing he was unable to deal with the situation as a whole, he stood up and looked to Natasha who immediately to knew what he needed.

"Spar room. 10 minutes." She said and made her way to the elevator.

Bucky turned to Steve and asked out of habit, "You wanna come?"

Steve knew Bucky. He knew him better than Bucky knew himself sometimes, so he knew that Natasha was the friend Bucky needed at the moment. Steve could see that Bucky and Natasha were having a rather heart-breaking reaction to the confirmation of a higher power and an afterlife. He knew they were good people and wished he could convince them they didn't need to drown themselves in the anguish and fear they were trying, and failing, to hide from the team.

"Nah, Buck, you go on. I'll head down to the gym in a bit. You can join me when you and Nat are finished." He flashed a small smile at the grateful look his friend gave him.

The team watched in silence as Bucky got on the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Tony asked.

"So…what's the game plan for handling the two Russian wells of despair?"

Knowing Natasha better than anyone in the tower, Clint spoke up from where he was leaning against the bar,

"I'll take care of Nat. She and Bucky will most likely spar out their feelings for the rest of the day. She'll need some time afterwards to fully decompress and then me and some of Tony's Billionaire Vodka will speak to her."

They all looked at Steve for direction on how to help Bucky.

"It's the same for Buck, minus the vodka." He stood up and made his way to the kitchen on the other side of the huge room. "He just needs a few hours."

He opened the fridge and took out the makings of a sandwich and handed the mayo and chicken to Clint, who had followed him at the hint of food. He grabbed the lettuce, tomato, and bacon, and the two of them proceeded to make themselves some sandwiches.

Tony and Bruce were the only ones left sitting. Tony could tell Bruce was a few moments away from a code green and decided they had had enough of this topic for the moment.

"I'm in the mood for some science." He stood up and gestured for Bruce to go first towards the elevator. "Come on, Pinky, let's go try to take over the world!"

Bruce looked at Tony in surprise. He had been expecting to be badgered into discussing the day's insane events and had been feeling a little green under the collar at the prospect. When he realized Tony was trying to help him calm down and still wanted to spend time with him after everything, he felt a rush of warmth for his friend (his best friend, if he was going to be highschool about it). He gave him a small, relieved smile and walked to the elevator.

"That's the same thing we do every night."

"No, I'm Brain, so that's my line."

"I am not Pinky! If anything you're Pinky with your penchant for things shiny."

"Excuse you! It's my lab! I'm definitely Brain!"

"Fine…we'll both be Brain."

"Fine. We'll have to change the song though cause now it'll just sound ridiculous: 'Brain and the Brain Brain Brain Brain Brain Brain – "

"- ok, I get it."

"-Brain Brain Brain Brain –"

"- enough, Tony!"

Steve's super-hearing could just make out Tony's voice continuing to annoy Bruce through the closed elevator doors before Jarvis sent the scientists down to the labs.  
************  
"So what are we doing about our 5 o'clock shadow?" Sam asked Dean, as he looked out the back window at the car that had been tailing them a few spots behind in the lane to their right.

Dean shrugged, unconcerned. "Nothing. It's just SHIELD. We're not doing anything that needs hiding, so we'll play nice and let them follow us. If they wanna watch us sit in traffic for the next hour, then who am I to kill a dream?"

New York traffic was no joke. They'd been on the road for 20 minutes and had barely gotten 10 blocks.

"We should've left Baby at the MacAllen's."

Sam scoffed, "You barely lasted 6 hours of separation – I'd hate to see your meltdown after however many days we're here as consultants."

Shuddering at the thought, Dean discreetly patted the steering wheel in reassurance. Noticing Sam was giving him the side-eye, he hurried to turn on the radio, as if that was his intent all along.

"All the honking traffic is making my ears bleed." The beginning chords of 'Ramble On' blasted out into the car. "Nothing Zeppelin can't drown out."

Sam scrunched low in his seat as the people beside him started yelling at them to turn their music down. Dean just laughed and turned it up, singing along.

**1 hour later**

Before being sucked into the quicksand that was NY traffic, Sam and Dean had been planning on stocking up on salt and shells.

"I vote we axe the supply run and head straight to the tower. We'll be hours in this madness."

Sam emphatically agreed and got out his phone. "I'm going to double-check the parking situation at the tower." Normally the brothers never gave a second thought about parking, it was such a minute detail, but in this city it was a legitimate concern.

Dean jerked his thumb at their tail, which had managed to climb up right behind them and suggested Sam go ask their spook-y friend. Knowing he had a few minutes before they'd be able to move forward, Sam got out of the car and made his way towards the SHIELD agent. Their tail had switched out the black SUV for a beige, semi-rusted Toyota. Upon approaching the vehicle he was impressed to note that the car's crusty appearance was a trompe l'oeil – the rust and general grossness had been painted on. The ruse only proved false when inspected closely. Sam appreciated SHIELD's effort in appearing underwhelming and harmless without compromising the integrity and efficacy of the vehicle.

Mark Carolle watched in confusion as the taller Winchester exited the car. He knew the chances of them realizing he was a tail were slim. In all his years, he had only been spotted once and that was by a CIA agent after Mark had made a rookie mistake. The confusion turned into mild alarm when he realized one of his targets was headed towards his vehicle and then into "Abort! Abort!" level panic when he strolled right up to Mark's door and knocked on the window. Mark spent an embarrassing second frozen with inaction until a second knock jolted him into rolling down his window.

"Yes, sir? Can I help you?"

Sam leaned down and gave the agent a friendly smile, trying to calm down the panic he could see on the agent's face.

"Hi Agent. Sorry to bother you, but my brother and I were wondering if you could tell us where we're to park when we arrive at the tower." He looked ruefully at the traffic they were jammed in and added, "If we ever make it."

Mark gave a polite chuckle and provided the parking info. Before Sam could walk away he asked, "I have to know – how did you know it was me? What gave it away?"

Sam could've named about 3 things that gave him away, but after a quick deliberation decided to withhold the information. He didn't want it to be used against him and Dean at a later date.

"Nothing specifically gave you away. We just know when we're being tailed. Experience, I guess." Sam shrugged and walked away, throwing a "Thanks again!" over his shoulder.

Once Sam was in back in his car, Mark dialed Coulson's number and informed him the Winchester's had made him. There was a beat of silence on the other end, indicating Coulson had been thrown by the information.

"Very interesting. Escort them the rest of the way to the tower. Agent Hill will be waiting for them inside."  
************  
Coulson turned to Fury with a raised eyebrow and said simply, "They made Carolle."

Nick's one eye blinked in surprise. Nobody got the jump on Carolle. Nobody. Not even Fury himself had spotted him when Pierce had ordered Mark to tail him before the revelation of Hydra.

"Impressive."

"Indeed."

Coulson and Fury looked at each other and knew they were both thinking of how best to pitch SHIELD to the Winchesters. They had real potential and wouldn't be as green as other recruits.

After a brief contemplation, Fury shook his head, "This is a pipe dream. They wouldn't have any interest in SHIELD. We have nothing to offer them."

"…How much pie do we have?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI – Billionaire Vodka is a thing. It's the most expensive vodka in the world (according to my mediocre googleability) at $3.7 million a bottle. It sounds ridiculous. Just the thing Tony would buy.
> 
> I purposely made Tony really immature and kind of OOC when singing the Pinky and the Brain song. He really wanted to pull Bruce out of a funk with some extremely light-hearted antics. I won't write him so immature often…if ever again.
> 
> I'm not a huge fan of original characters in fanfics. I don't plan on having my OCs be anything other than highlighters of the awesomeness that is Sam and Dean and how they compare to trained professionals and civilians.


	6. Chapter 6

"Freaking finally!" Sheer relief infused Dean's voice as he pulled into the valet service for the tower.

Sam and Dean both craned their heads forward and peered up at the tower through the windshield. The sheer height of the building made it impossible to see the top. Almost everyone on the planet had seen the tower in some form of social media, be it on the news, twitter, Instagram, etc. So Sam and Dean knew what it would look like, but didn't understand what it would feel like. From their point of view it appeared endless. Bearing down on them, it's hundreds of windows felt like eyes, watching and judging.

Throughout their colourful career they'd met hundreds of people from all walks of life; rich, poor – they were usually indifferent. They both took a silent moment to feel outclassed, watching people rush in and out of the doors in obviously expensive apparel. They were both keenly feeling their SES at that moment.

"Fuck this noise." Refusing to feel inadequate, Dean aggressively got out of the car, making sure to slam the door extra hard.

Muddy boots, grease stained coats, and flannel chests on full display: the unofficial uniform of the Winchesters stuck out sorely as they entered the pristine lobby made up of chrome, leather, and glass.

Happy took his job as Head of Security very seriously (perhaps too seriously if one were to ask Pepper Potts.) His years acting as Tony Stark's driver and then bodyguard burned any shred of ignorance he had regarding the horrors of what people could achieve with the right amount of deranged motivation. Terrorism, organized crime, hell, even unorganized crime – Happy had seen it all. Not to mention the enhanced or otherworldly threats now plaguing the city.

This level of expertise equipped him with the ability to ascertain threats almost immediately, regardless of age, gender, or clothing. So the moment he spotted the two men enter the lobby he knew interception was required. Their clothing may have said 'Canadian Truck and Lumber', but their stance and sharp eyes said something much different. Something he would expect from SHIELD, military, or even the Avengers.

"Can I help you?" Dean's feathers were ruffled. 20 steps in and already they were being singled out by security in the form of a heavyset man with a head the size of a watermelon. Dean imagined it would feel like a wrecking ball to be head butt by that thing.

Sam quickly stepped up to prevent Dean from making some sort of unfortunate scene.

"Yes, thank you, sir." Shooting the guard a disarmingly self-deprecating smile, Sam continued. "We're the Winchesters. We're actually here to meet with Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers, but don't actually know where to go."

Happy's eyebrows shot up at the statement. Crazies these days were getting lazy. They didn't even try to make up some sort of credible alibi. Nothing to do with plumbing, electrical, internet, or anything that would allow them entry. Happy decided the best approach was to just gently lead them out of the building.

"Mr. Stark and the Avengers? No kidding. Well, let me just escort you to his office immediately!"

Grabbing an arm per brother, Happy turned them abruptly towards the front doors and tightened his grip as he propelled them forward. "His office is right this way. It's a discreet entrance. So discreet, in fact, it's not even in this building! So he doesn't get hounded. There's so many nutbars roaming around, you can never be too careful."

The brothers, quickly realizing they were considered nutbars in this scenario, started digging in their heels.

"Listen, Chuckles. Stark is actually expecting us. We met him earlier today. Just call him and tell him we're here." Dean held back a flinch as 'H. Hogan' (according to his badge) whipped his enormous head around to look at him. At this range, it'd be like getting bashed by a boulder. Instant death.

"I'd be more likely to believe you were dancing lumberjacks here to strip for Joanne from housekeeping's 66th birthday." Happy rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Stop wasting my time and get out."

Keeping his voice calm and rational, Sam tried to convince Happy they weren't insane or nefarious. "Sir, I know this must seem outlandish. We're aware we definitely do not look the part, but we truly did speak with the Avengers today. As well as Director Fury and an Agent Coulson at SHIELD."

At the mention of Fury and Coulson, Happy hesitated and stopped trying to shove them out the rotating doors. "How do you know about Fury and Coulson?"

Before either brother could answer, a female voice called out, "Sam and Dean Winchester?"

What the hell was Happy doing now?! It took everything Maria Hill had not to let out an exasperated sigh at Happy's over-zealous trigger finger. The man literally had Dean Winchester in a rough headlock while his hip was attempting to check Sam Winchester into the rotating doorway. Sam, the poor guy, had a death grip on the doorframe.

From somewhere near Happy's left armpit, Dean let out a muffled, "Here!" and waved an arm.

Sam let out a cautious, "Hello." while continuing to white-knuckle the doorframe.

"You can release them, Happy." Maria instructed.

"Miss Hill?"

"Tony is expecting them." Directing her attention to the brothers directly, she apologized, "I should've been here to greet you as soon as you arrived. My apologies. My name is Maria Hill and I will be accompanying you up to the Avengers."

Happy let go of Sam and Dean and they both took several giant steps away from him.

Sam stared at Happy incredulously. "Your name is Happy?! Seriously?"

"Should definitely have that changed to Asshole." Dean's was rubbing his neck. It was gonna hurt tomorrow.

At Happy's angry silence, Dean couldn't help poking the bear, "What, no apology? We are important guests – consultants, technically – of your boss. I'm sure he'd love to know just how awfully his staff treated us."

Glaring at the two, Happy uttered the most convoluted and dickish apology the brothers had ever heard, "I apologize that rational judgement dictated my actions, outweighing the inadvisable reality in which you are legitimate guests of Mr. Stark."

Dean pointed at Happy, "Dude. Rude." and made his way to Agent Hill with Sam.

Following her into the swankiest elevator they had ever seen, Sam and Dean did their best not to stare or touch. Glistening chrome and leather panels lined the walls, with touchscreen buttons glowing an electric blue. Hill hit the 'P' button and instantly the buttons were replaced with a handprint scanner onto which she placed her hand.

"Communal floor, please, Jarvis."

Sam and Dean jumped as a polished, British voice responded, "Of course, Miss Hill."

Maria allowed a little smile at their reactions before explaining, "That's Jarvis. He's Mr. Stark's A.I. and is responsible for almost everything in the tower. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to bring them up with Jarvis. You simply need to speak aloud and he'll hear you and respond from anywhere within the tower."

Sam couldn't believe it. He stopped looking at the ceiling (an instinctive reaction when a disembodied voice starts talking) and looked at his brother. Dean's eyes were as wide as saucers and his mouth hung open as he stared at Hill. He let out an embarrassing squeaking sound before he was able to find his words.

Dean reached out and ran a hand down the wall of the elevator. "Can he feel that?"

A distinctly amused tone coloured Jarvis' voice as he responded, "No, Sir, I cannot. I am able to see and hear through the cameras and speakers placed throughout the tower. I have no physical form – tower or otherwise."

So many questions. Sam had So. Many. Questions! Before he could wrangle his over-excited thoughts into even one coherent question, Jarvis spoke again.

"Here you are, Miss Hill, and Messrs. Winchester. Sir and the rest of the Avengers are waiting in the living room."

"Thank you, Jarvis."

"Of course, Miss Hill."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Sam and Dean spoke simultaneously, voices resonating awe.

Dean gave the wall another stroke, unable to help himself as he said, "You're awesome."

Jarvis' amused voice was notably warmer, "You are very welcome, Sirs."

If the boys thought the elevator was amazing, they had no words for the sight that greeted them when Jarvis opened the doors.

Chrome, leather, and floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooking absolutely mind-blowing views of Manhattan – it was a lot to take in visually and mentally. They were so distracted by the views, they almost missed the Avengers sprawled out on the couches and chairs to their right.

"Hey! Things 1 and 2! Welcome!" Clint raised a beer in greeting from the big loveseat he was sprawled on.

Captain America and Tony Stark stood up, making their way over. There was a chorus of greetings from the rest of the group which also included Natasha and Bucky.

Sam let out a weak, slightly overwhelmed, "Hey."

Dean ignored all of them except for Tony. Forgoing polite greetings and words of gratitude for letting them stay here free of charge, he blurted out, "Please tell me you have a car collection. There is no way a dude who owns all this chrome and leather does not have an amazing car collection."

Tony smirked at Dean. "I might even let you look under a hood or two if I really like you." Dean whimpered a little at the prospect and took the beer Tony placed in his hand.

Sam watched as Dean nearly fainted from happiness and started muttering the word 'Batmobile'.

Somehow a fangirling Dean always seemed to snap Sam out of any surreal moment and ground him. Luckily for him, because when he stopped watching Dean he realized Captain America was standing right in front of him with his arm outstretched for a shake. Which Sam was quick to provide.

"It's a bit much to take in, huh?"

Sam chuckled. "Just a bit."

Steve gave a rueful smile and said, "Imagine seeing this after living in the 40's." Sam and Steve walked towards the rest of the group who were all sitting, drinking, and talking. Steve continued, "Have you met Jarvis yet?"

Dean was quick to answer, "He's awesome."

Tony looked thrilled that someone new was appreciating his creation and attaching a personal pronoun. "Yes, my baby is amazing. Way to make Poppa proud, J."

The only sound that came over the speakers was a slightly disgruntled sigh.

Tony looked at Sam and Dean and just shrugged, "Teenagers."

Once Sam and Dean had sat themselves down, Tony explained the tower, "So here's the rundown: this is the communal floor. Obviously kitchen-" Tony shot a thumb over his shoulder indicating the gourmet kitchen and dining table behind him –"and living room. This floor also has a deck area, a rec room with pool tables, etc., and a movie room. It also has a few guest rooms, which is where you guys will be sleeping for the next few days. In the above 7 floors are the housing suits. Everyone else gets their own suite – 2 per floor. Clint and Natasha each have a suit and share a floor, same with Bucky and Steve. And because his personal bubble is basically Hulk-sized, Brucie gets his own floor. And obviously I get my own floor. Because it's my beautiful building."

Letting out a breath, Tony flopped back and took a sip of his scotch. "God, that was exhausting. I'm exhausted."

Clint responded by throwing his toothpick into Tony's drink.

"Real mature, Pigeon!"

Steve rolled his eyes at pair of them and continued, "There's also a pretty intense gym –" Dean let out an 'Eww' while Sam's eyes lit up, "a meditation room, and a pool."

Maria spoke up from where she was on her laptop at the kitchen table, "We're unsure how long you'll be needed, but Director Fury would like to get started right away. Starting at 8am tomorrow morning, you have been scheduled to meet with SHIELD to discuss the situation in depth."

Dean let out a dry, "Fun."

"Indubitably." Maria stood, packing up her laptop, and made her way to the elevator. "I have a meeting with Agent Coulson, so I'm leaving. If you need anything, try not to ask Happy."

Tony perked up, "Why? What's wrong with Hap?"

Maria just smirked as the elevator doors closed.

Tony immediately knew what the problem was when Dean started to rub his neck, "So he's a bit excitable." Taking in Sam and Dean's unimpressed faces, he sighed, "I'll switch out his coffee again."

There was brief period of silence in which everyone just took stock of each other. Then Clint leaned forward and asked, "Hey, so where's Clarence?"

Sam and Dean paused, shocked. They exchanged glances and closely looked at Clint. Sam softly and hesitantly inquired, "Meg?"

With a WTF?! look on his face, Clint clarified, "Uh, no. I'm Clint, remember?" Miming shooting a bow and arrow, he further elaborated, "Aka Hawkeye? We literally met like an hour ago? Not to mention, I'm a dude." He made a sweeping gesture towards his genitals.

Bucky snorted, "There's not enough down there to convince anyone, Barton."

"Excuse you! At least I don't look like I'm wearing a $20 hobo weave!"

"Dames love it. I was hit on last week." Bucky boasted.

Natasha wryly spoke up, "She was a 80 year old blind lady that you helped with feeling up ripe fruit. She said you had good plum squeezing hands. If she had seen your hair she'd have plum squeezed solo."

The group cringed at the imagery, Natasha included. "I've grossed myself out."

"Delightful, Romanoff. And on that gag-worthy note, why don't I show the guests their rooms." Tony stood and beckoned Sam and Dean to follow him.

"If you guys stay long enough, I'll show you the best places to crash." Clint offered mischievously.

"No one wants to see your ventilation vacation rentals, Megan." Tony gestured towards Sam. "I don't even think the big one will fit in the vents."

Sam felt slightly affronted, even though he had no desire to crawl around in the building's ventilation system. These people were a bit weirder than he had imagined.

In typical Dean fashion, his brother was fitting right in, "That'd be epic for pranking. Happy could use a laugh. Maybe it'd help relieve some of the pressure off that boulder holder he calls a neck."

"You leave Happy alone! His blood pressure is high enough." Tony ushered them past the kitchen and into the hallway towards their rooms. "Clint practically lives in the vents some days. He's slept in the vents more than he's slept in his bed. But if you're any sort of normal, these accommodations should appeal to you far more than any air duct system."

Opening their door, he advised them that the handle was already coded to their handprints.

"Jarvis scanned your hands for prints while you were in the elevator and coded the handle to you two specifically. It'll lock once it's closed and only the two of you, myself, and Jarvis can unlock it."

Dean looked at the handle in wonder. "Jarvis, man, if you had a fist, I'd bump it."

"The sentiment is more than enough, Sir."

Opening the door revealed a beautifully decorated living room. There was a small kitchen, an island/bar, and a bathroom. All done in the same chrome and leather as the main room. There was a hallway to the right of the living room which Sam and Dean assumed led to their bedrooms.

"Wow. This is great. Thank you. We'll have to get our bags from the car later." A thankful Sam made his way to check out the bedroom.

"Definitely beats motel-ing it with Sammy over here. Speaking of motels, have you heard of the luxury item known as Magic Fingers?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The first part of this chapter is pretty dreary with mentions of self-harm and semi-graphic violence.

They waited for Tony and the Winchesters to leave the room before launching into an assessment.

"That wasn't too bad. Aside from the whole 'Meg' bit, which was both insulting and confusing."

Clint liked Sam and Dean. He knew he was going to get along especially well with the older Winchester and he didn't think either brother would have a problem fitting into the tower for the next few days.

"You're just happy they didn't make a bid for that stupid chair." Natasha rolled her eyes and relaxed into her seat.

Well, her muscles went through the motions of appearing relaxed, though truthfully she was anything but. Sparring with Bucky in the gym had helped settle her mind and forced her body to convert her anxiety into adrenaline, but the reappearance of the two Winchesters had served to bring back the overwhelming panic of earlier.

Neither she nor Bucky had spoken a single word to each other while they sparred. Empty platitudes weren't going to help. Cut from the same shredded and blood-stained cloth, the only thing that would bring a sense of normalcy was fighting. The only purification they found in life was through bleeding and their only release was found in the guttural screams of attack. They both lost themselves in the melodic soundtrack of splitting skin, the heavy bass of blows, and the sharp snap, crackle, pop of joint and bone. While she couldn't afford to be on the mend with a broken bone for a few weeks, the serum ensured any bones Bucky broke would be healed within an hour. In total they listened to the symphonic song of 6: with significant effort she managed to crack 4 of his ribs, while he purposefully shattered two of his fingers by punching the wall, needing the pain for clarity.

Fighting each other wasn't the act of inflicting pain, it was the act of granting pain. In a twisted form of self-harm, they were each the blade the other used for cutting when it all became too overwhelming. It wasn't something they discussed aloud. Ever. The team had no idea and couldn't know that this was their only real coping mechanism when the memories their past wouldn't leave them be.

At some point, familiarity breeds contentment. They had both been held hostage by pain for so long that Stockholm syndrome inevitably kicked in. Pain became the one thing they truly understood in a world drowning in chaos and, as a result, it became a safe haven. Steve wouldn't get it and Bucky thanked his forsaken God every day that Steve wouldn't be made/forced to understand. If he had to endure another 70+ years of torture under Hydra just to prevent Steve from tasting one day of it, he would. Steven Rogers was the best thing about Bucky. That Steve was fool enough to consider him his friend was Bucky's one redeeming quality. Steve loved Bucky and was his brother in everything but blood, but he wasn't the person who knew him best.

Observing said person deepened the frown on Bucky's already scowling face and he nudged her in an attempt to draw her attention outwards away from thoughts of eternal hell.

Compartmentalization was the foundation of Natasha's sanity. The Red Room destroyed most of who she was, but a miniscule bit of her true self managed to survive only by being safely locked away in one of her many compartments. But in the span of one afternoon, her mind had been blown and all the compartments blown with it. Every terrible act inflicted upon her and those which she inflicted upon others flooded her senses until she was insensate to anything else.

Natasha didn't know how she was going to cope with her new reality and was afraid that she wouldn't be able to; that she'd break completely drowning in fear.

To be afraid was unfavorably human and considered by the Red Room as failure. She had thought the Red Room had eradicated her ability to feel fear, even in the face of death, which was simply a workplace hazard for an assassin. Death itself didn't instill fear, it was what came after it that could make an assassin hesitate, stumble, and fail. Assassins who don't assassinate are bad for business, so in regards to an afterlife, the Red Room preached nonexistence; after all there's no point in fearing something that doesn't exist. After the years Natasha stopped counting everything they stole from her: her innocence; her virginity; her potential children, the list was endless. But stealing her humanity and twisting it into something monstrous was by far the worst thing they did to her because monsters don't get to go to heaven.

They say as soon as you're born you start dying. Without knowing it, she's spent most of her life just dying to go to Hell.

A well-timed nudge from Bucky yanked her out of her head, allowing her to pick up what Steve was saying and contribute as though her very seams weren't ripping apart.

"Well, we came off a bit more…" Steve paused, searching for the right word.

"Ridiculous?" Natasha provided.

"Squabble-y?" Bucky helpfully supplied.

"Awe-inspiring?" Clint was delusional.

"- juvenile then I would've liked, but at least they seem more comfortable around us now."

Steve was glad they had gotten a few moments to connect with the Winchesters without discussing the reason they were here in the first place. They had all consciously avoided the demonic elephant in the room.

If they were to trust each other, then a rapport definitely needed to be forged first and foremost. It helped that they seemed like upstanding men. The fact that they dedicated their lives to helping people garnered them his respect. Not only were they selfless and brave, but they were smart. When going over their background, Fury and Coulson had revealed that Sam had sacrificed his Ivy League education and, thus, a potentially lucrative law career, to fight living, breathing nightmares. Looking around at the group, he was a bit saddened that Bruce had opted out of welcoming the brothers.

"I'm with Barton on this - we create a very majestic and intimidating tableau." Tony sauntered back into the room, having escorted Sam and Dean to their quarters.

Sitting down, he asked, "Anyone here know what the hell 'Magic Fingers' are?"

He knew it was a plebe invention the moment Natasha sighed in exasperation and Clint perked up with excitement.

"OMG! Fucking 'Lightbulb'!" (Gru voice included. Barton was a damn moron) "You're completely wasted as tech support."

"Tech Support?!" Tony was aghast at his dumbed down designation.

"Instead of making me arrows and armour, make me Magic Fingers! They're amazing. The best thing about this planet. I know we say we fight for all mankind, etc., wife, kids, blah blah, but I've really, subconsciously, been fighting to save the Magic Fingers. A world without them isn't a world worth living. You should make each of us one."

Tony looked on in weirded out confusion as Barton waxed poetic with an enthusiasm that mirrored Dean's and asked, "But what are they exactly?"

"It's essentially a mattress full of massaging vibrators." Natasha deadpanned. "Clint's a pervert. He almost missed tailing a mark in Wisconsin because of a sexed up bed."

Clint glazed over dreamily in remembrance, "Coulson was livid, but it was so worth the lecture and extra paperwork."

"I am not making you a jumbo-sized sex toy, Barton." Tony was no blushing bride, but he could feel the tips of his ears getting a little hot. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm inclined to call HR."

Looking at their resident geriatrics, he saw that Steve looked like his very flower was being threatened while Bucky appeared simultaneously uncomfortable and intrigued.

Put out, Clint relented, "Fine. You don't have to make one for each of us. Just make one and put it in the recovery room where we can all take turns."

Jumping to his feet, Tony decided it was time for him to depart. On his way out, he grabbed Steve's wrist and hauled him up.

"I'm leaving and I'm taking our precious Steven with me."

Steve, turning redder by the second, was more than willing to go. He shot Bucky a glare as he laughed at him.

"Aw Stevie, didn't you learn anything doing those PSAs? It's natural to feel urges. You should try being something other than vanilla. Actually, vanilla is too spicy for you. You're more like room temperature oatmeal."

"You're one to laugh, Buck-o. Remember Carleeta? Or should I say just Carl-"

"OK! OK!" Bucky blanched and then turned a little green at a reminder of his drinking disaster hookup in 43'. Taught him to stay away from the docks after dark. "Jesus, Steve. Be as oatmeal as you want."

"…just to be clear," Clint spoke up, "It's a 'no' to the team bed, right? I mean, Cap could probably use a little relaxation."

Tony reached up, clamped his hands over Steve's ears with a shouted, 'Don't listen, Steven!', and proceeded to drag him towards the elevator to safety.

"Ack! Tony!" Steve tried to yank Tony's hands off his ears, but Tony just clamped down harder with hands like a vice. "Tony! Get off!"

Bucky couldn't help himself, "He could if he was on the team sex bed."

************

These rooms were amazing. Luxury the likes of which Sam had never seen. For one jarring moment, Sam felt himself seize up with regret and impotent anger. Regret for leaving Sanford and not pursuing a career which would have afforded him at least an approximation of this luxury, and anger that he was forced to resort to sleeping in cars or shitty motel rooms, paid for by scamming. Just a split second of selfishness which abruptly ended when Sam looked at himself in his bathroom mirror after washing his hands. He looked at the bruise forming on his chin from where Edward's ghost had thrown him across the room just that morning and smashed his face on a jutting brick. He looked at his hands which were cut up from the glass of shattered lamps. He looked at left thumbnail which was black and blue, probably going to fall off in a few days, as a result of Edward slamming a cabinet door on it. He'd forgotten about Edward and the case that had brought him to Manhattan. The shine of the Avengers and the tower had blinded him for a second, making him forget that luxury items weren't the point of his life. Sighing deeply, he dried his hands (electric hand dryer was nice, though) and went to go meet Dean in the living room.

Eyes closed, fuzzy slippered feet up, and robe already on, Dean looked like he was on vacation. Sam let out a little smile, happy his brother was finding a moment of peace. After 10 additional seconds, he decided that was enough peace and woke Dean up to discuss the situation.

"DEAN! WAKE UP!" Sam made sure to shout directly into Dean's slumbering face to ensure optimal annoyance. He jerked back as Dean sat up in an ungraceful flail.

Looking around for threats, Dean was met with the smirking face of Sam.

"Dude, seriously?!" Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Dean groggily asked, "J, my man, what time is it?"

"Dean, you can't ask Jar-"

"It is 7:30pm, Thursday, October 21, 2017, sir." Jarvis relayed in his usual soothing tones.

Sam was speechless for a second. "Umm…Hi, Jarvis." He gave a small wave at the room in general.

"Good day, Mr. Winchester."

"So we can literally ask you anything?" Sam inquired.

"Correct, sir. I am happy to answer any inquiries to the best of my ability."

Dean smiled at the ceiling. "Thanks, J."

"You are most welcome, sir."

Sam watched as Dean shuffled over to the mini-fridge set up in the corner by the kitchenette, tightening his robe as he went.

"You seem pretty cozy and settled." Sam observed.

Grabbing a beer from the plethora of selections, Dean cracked it open as he turned to Sam, "Are you kidding me? Look at this place!" He waved his arms, sloshing a bit of beer on the floor as he went. Wiping it up with a fuzzy slipper, he continued, "When are we gonna enjoy the likes of this kind of fancy again? My money's on never. So, obviously, I'm gonna live it up. We can discuss demon crap tomorrow at SHIELD."

He then floofed back down on the couch and grabbed the remote, which was a decked out Stark Pad.

Looking it over closely he informed the A.I., "I'm probably gonna steal this when I leave, Jarvis. FYI."

"Very good, sir."

He turned on the TV, but before he could properly ensconce himself in what would probably be multiple episodes of Dr. Sexy, Sam interrupted.

"Dean, I hate to interrupt your Shangri-La moment, but we seriously need to figure this out. We're here as consultants, but we don't actually know what's going on. What the hell was that demon talking about serving someone who wasn't Crowley? Why did he make such a scene? Demons stay under the radar for a reason – if people know they exist, they won't make deals." Sam watched in growing frustration as Dean just kept clicking through channels.

"Sam, do you see what I'm wearing?" Dean asked, not bothering to avert his eyes from the television.

"Yeah, a robe over jeans and two layers of flannel. Not to mention a pair of ridiculous boudoir slippers."

"No, Sam. I'm wearing my leisure suit, which means I'm leisuring." Dean stated matter-of-factly, as though Sam was an incompetent for not understanding the situation.

"…" Sam just blinked at his older brother.

"Jarvis, have you heard of Dr. Sexy?" Dean was clearly done with Sam.

"Ok, no." Sam launched himself at Dean and grabbed the remote. Next thing he knew, he and Dean were on the floor wrestling like a couple of 5 year olds, fighting over the remote, screaming and hollering at each other.

"Sam! What are you doing?! Can't you see I'm leisuring! Let me fucking leisure in peace, you big bitch."

"Dean! Let go! We need to – ack! Stop pulling – ow! My hair! –OW!"

Dean had shoved the remote down his pants so Sam couldn't turn off the TV and proceeded to grab a fistful of Sam's hair.

"I keep telling you to hack off this damn mop! I've got my switchblade in my pocket, one sec and I'll even do it for you!"

Jarvis, being the omnipotent presence that he was, observed the newest additions to Sir's tower with a vague sense of bemusement. They were very…lively. He had witnessed several similar brawls between members of the Avengers in the gym areas before, but not quite like this. Jarvis was coded with a violence protocol: Sir was to be informed when any signs of violence happened outside of the designated fighting areas.

"Sir, I must inform you of a physical altercation currently taking place in the quarters of Sam and Dean Winchester."

Tony was in his workshop trying to get Dummy to stop shoving petrol-based smoothies in his face, while Steve was on the couch sketching. They both jumped up and rushed to the elevator.

"What's happening, J? Are they under attack?"

"Not by any outside assailants." Jarvis informed.

"What does that mean exactly?" Steve asked, confused.

He and Tony stepped out of the elevator onto the common floor to see everyone still sitting around where they had left them earlier.

"Ha! I knew you'd reconsider." Clint perked up at the sight of them, but immediately shut up at the serious looks on their faces. "What's up?"

"Sam and Dean are in trouble." Steve quickly supplied.

Bucky, Clint, and Natasha rushed to follow the running figures of Tony and Steve as they made their way down the hall. As they neared the room, they could hear the brothers yelling, and the words being exchanged had the group stopping just outside the door.

"You goddamned Moose, I'm LEISURING!"

"Let go of my hair, Dean! God, you fight like a 5 year old! If you start biting, I'm calling Cas."

Tony softly unlocked the door and let it swing quietly open, revealing the source of the racket.

Dean, robe pulled half off and trapping his right arm, was attempting to bob and weave his head away from the frilly slipper Sam was pummeling him with. Sam couldn't really see if he was hitting with any accuracy as he was almost bent completely in half trying to ease the tension from Dean's death grip on his hair. It was from this vantage point that he noticed that he and Dean had an audience.

He immediately stopped hitting Dean and hissed, "Dean! Shut up!" (He was still going on about leisuring and the rules inherent to wearing a leisure suit.).

This change in Sam's behaviour had Dean looking at the door. He immediately and whole-heartedly wished he hadn't. Not only because he and Sam were caught in such a juvenile jumble, but because he was standing in front of Tony Stark with a Stark Pad protruding obscenely from the front of his pants like some grotesque endowment.

The two parties stared at each other in silence until Tony spoke,

"Is that a Starkpad in your pants or are you just happy to see me?"

Sam's eyes closed in utter mortification.

Beside him, Dean's voice faintly asked, 'Jarvis, I can ask you anything, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"…can you please kill me?"

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary, sir, as you appear to be dying of embarrassment already."

"Years of hard work and billions of dollars and instead of an A.I., I've created the world's most expensive troll." Tony stated proudly. "You've done pop-pop proud, J."

"I'm here all night, sir."

Tony turned back to the boys and, pointing at Sam, ordered, "You, drop the slipper and step out of biting range." Pointing to Dean, he chastised, "Hair pulling? Really? And take the Stark Pad out of your pants. Tech is sexy, believe me, I get it, but my tech isn't that easy. You need to at least wine and dine it first."

Sam and Dean hastily did as they were told. Dean, having to turn around and unzip his pants to wretch out the Stark Pad, while Sam tried to smooth out the knots Dean had made in his hair.

"Clearly, you two need adult supervision, so you're coming with us –"

"Do we qualify?" Barton muttered.

"You never qualify, Barton." Bucky shot back.

" – to eat dinner. It's Bruce's turn to cook, but he's a little too grumped up, so we've ordered in from his favourite place. Be warned, it's vegan and gluten-free."

Sam looked happy at the prospect while Dean tried to hide a grossed out grimace.

"Sounds…yum..."

"It's not." Clint advised. "Bucky and I usually grab burgers down the street when it's Bruce's vegan and gluten-free night. Wanna come?"

"Yes!" Dean's relief infused voice was quick to answer.

"Great! Ok, you deal with all…that" Clint waved his hand in a circular motion at Dean's questionable ensemble, "and meet us in the common room in 5."

With that, the group left Sam and Dean to themselves.

Dean looked down at himself and was quick to remove his janked up robe and his one remaining slipper.

Shaking his head, Sam sat down on the couch. "Well, that just happened."

"Yeah, what the hell, Jarvis?" Dean cast a betrayed look at the ceiling.

"Apologies, sir; however, it is protocol to alert Mr. Stark in case of violence outside of the gym. It is to prevent in-team fighting, which used to be a significant issue during the initial months of residing in the tower."

"Huh. Still hurt, J."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and stood up. "Let's just go eat."

************

Walking down a busy Manhattan street with Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier was a bit of an eye opener for Dean. They looked like they were about to hold up a bank. Both of them were wearing big sunglasses, baseball hats, and hoodies. Bucky was slightly hunched over in a fruitless attempt to make himself appear smaller and less threatening. Despite all the incognito, they were still garnering second glances from people.

They had exited the tower through an underground tunnel which put them in the building next door and able to walk outside without alerting the handful of paparazzi and fanatics always camped in front of the Avengers Tower.

"Is this how you guys always have to travel?"

Clint shrugged, "Unless we want to get mobbed by adoring fans and enemies alike, then yeah. You think this is bad? You should see when Bucky and Steve go out together. No matter what they wear or how they try to hide, America has had decades to memorize what they look like together, so they get spotted and called out almost every time."

"Shitty." Dean surmised.

Bucky just grunted in agreement.

"So, Dean-o, not a health-nut like your brother?" Clint changed the subject.

"Hell, no." Dean scoffed at the idea. "Sammy's a granola-head, through and through. Salads, protein shakes, vegan, gluten-free, fat-free…it's all taste-free to me, but he loves it."

"Yeah, Stevie, too." Bucky input. "Guy's built like a brick shit house and he still watches what he eats. He could literally eat sticks of lard all day every day and the kid wouldn't lose an ounce of muscle."

"Well, him and Sam should be two healthy little peas in a pod soon enough." Clint predicted. "Ooh, we're here."

'Here' being "Bob's Burgers" – a food truck parked on a corner a couple blocks away from the tower.

"Best burgers in town." Clint boasted. "Bob always has some crazy special."

Even Bucky perked up and started grinning at the brightly coloured truck.

Walking up to the window, Clint called out, "Hey, Bobby! What special you got today?"

A beleaguered looking dark-haired man poked his head out the window and answered, "Today we have a delicious 'If Looks Could Kale Burger'. It comes with oven roasted garlic kale instead of lettuce."

He looked inordinately proud of his creation.

Clint looked at his two compadres (who both subtly shook their heads) and answered, "Uh, sounds like a good time, but I think we'll just go for 3 of your tried and true classic bacon cheese burgers."

Looking a little put out that nobody wanted to order his kale kreation, Bob upsold, "Fine. But you're ordering fries and onion rings." With that he stomped to the back of the truck and started firing up their food.

"What customer service." Dean was happy enough to have onion rings and fries forced upon him.

"He's just really passionate about burgers." Bucky excused.

A few minutes later they were armed with their food and Clint led the three of them to a bench located a few feet away from the truck. Sitting down he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"You are in for a real treat, my friend." He said to Dean.

Taking a bite, Dean moaned. "Oh my god. So freakin' good." Before he took another bite, he warned, "Things are about to get real indecent fellas, avert your eyes." With that he took an enormous chomp and, unable to close his mouth due to the sheer volume, proceeded to chew with his eyes closed and mouth wide open, moaning the entire time.

"Dean-bean, you're a pretty gross dude." Clint stated, watching the way people were grimacing as they walked by the spectacle that was Dean enjoying himself a hamburger.

Dean could not care less. Still chewing, he finally opened his eyes and took in the sights and sounds of New York in complete bliss. He went to take another murderous chomp when he caught sight of a pick-pocket stealing a wallet out of an elderly woman's purse.

"Oh, Son of a bitch!" With that, Dean, burger in hand, took off down the sidewalk.

Bucky and Clint were completely surprised when Dean leaped off the bench and ran down the sidewalk yelling "Hey! Asshole! Yeah, I see you! Get back here!"

They watched as a man started running for his life when he saw Dean was after him.

"What is happening?" Clint asked Bucky, still watching the scene.

"I have to idea, but for a guy who eats nothing but fast food all day, he's got some speed to him."

They both flinched simultaneously and let out "Oohs!" when Dean caught up to the guy and tackled him. They could hear Dean cussing up a storm as the guy pulled out a baton and started hitting him.

"We should probably do something, right? I mean, we are Avengers." Clint asked, still eating. "Oh, nevermind."

Almost as soon as the fight had started, Dean had ended it. Once the guy pulled out the baton, Dean smashed his searing hot burger in the guy's face, nearly suffocating him with burning meat and cheese, and punched him the stomach.

As the guy was moaning and groaning in pain on the ground, Dean riffled through his pockets looking for the items he'd picked. He found 6 wallets in total, including the flowered one from the elderly lady. Standing up, Dean finally noticed the crowd standing around him. People had their phones out taking pictures and video of him chasing and tackling the guy.

"Uhh…anybody lose their wallet?" He held them up. The crowd answered him with clapping, cheering, and whistling.

He noticed the little, old, blue-haired lady approach the back of the crowd and he pushed his way through towards her. "Here, Ma'am, I think this one is yours."

She thanked him profusely in her sweet, crinkly voice. "Thank you, sir. You're very brave and kind. I cannot tell you how thankful I am."

"For a sweetheart like you? Anytime." He winked at her (she'd be telling the girls at bridge about this tomorrow) and then turned to see two police officers had arrived. One was hauling the perp up while the other was speaking to witnesses.

Dean made his way to the second one. "Here. These are the wallets I found on him."

The officer took them. "Thank you, sir. Nice move with the burger. One of Bob's, I presume?"

Dean looked sadly at the mangled mess of his dinner laying on the ground. "Yeah."

The cop clapped him on the back. "It's a shame it was wasted on this guy, huh? Maybe Bob will give you another. In the meantime, I need to take your statement."

Dean relayed everything from his point of view and then made his way back to where Clint and Bucky were still sitting on the bench, polishing off their last bit of fries.

He sat down beside them and looked glumly at their food.

Bucky rolled his eyes and handed Dean a fresh hamburger. "Here. We got Bob to make you a new one as soon as we saw you had weaponized yours."

"Oh my god. You're the best. I love you." He then demolished the burger in record time.

"I don't know if he meant me or the hamburger." Bucky said to Clint, watching Dean eat like a starving man.

Clint clapped Bucky on the back and said, "I think we both know he's talking to the hamburger."

************

Agent McKinley called Coulson from where he sat across the street on a bench, tailing Dean, Clint, and Bucky.

"Yessir, that's right, he took out a pick-pocket in a matter of seconds."

He had to stop himself from sighing into the phone when he confessed, "No, sir, I hadn't noticed the pick-pocket myself, but neither had Barton or Barnes."

He clenched his hand when Coulson spoke again, "Yessir, I understand. Constant vigilance, sir."

Agent McKinley's dark brow furrowed as he listened to Coulson, "My pocket, sir? No. My wallet's right…" He couldn't stop his sigh of defeat when he went to retrieve his wallet only to find it missing.

"The pickpocket was SHIELD, sir?"

Agent Coulson couldn't keep the grin off his face or out of his voice when he spoke to his agent, "Yes, McKinley. It was a test. Mostly for Dean, but also for you. Guess who failed."

With that he hung up and leaned back in the chair he was occupying in Nick Fury's office. Looking at Nick's face he stated, "We really need to look into that pie contingency."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leisure Suit! Stole it from Jenna Marbles!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two beta readers! They have been so fantastic and insanely helpful with making sure this chapter reads right. Thank you SO MUCH morrismsteph and nightgigjo! Also, this chapter would be 1100 words shorter if it hadn't been for morrismsteph's input.
> 
> FYI:
> 
> 1) Supernatural Books: a couple people have asked why Sam and Dean aren't telling SHIELD and the Avengers about Chuck's Supernatural books. They will never reveal those books. They are filled with so much man-pain. It's just too embarrassing. I might have them pop-up unexpectedly to the dismay of Sam and Dean, but the brothers won't be revealing them purposefully.
> 
> 2) Supernatural Lecture 101: you can assume that the Avengers know the basics of everything major such as the bunker, their respective stints in hell, purgatory, the mark of Cain, different types of monsters. They might not know the details of every case or all the ins and outs of their relationships with other hunters, but they are aware of the major things Sam and Dean have been through. This is my incredibly lazy way of not having to rehash the show.

"Hey Thompson! Way to get your ass handed to you by the Hamburglar!"

Agent Jon Thompson flipped off his fellow SHIELD agents as he limped through the bullpen towards his desk. With bandages on his cheeks and chin covering first and second degree grease burns, he was fully aware he looked like a ratchet Halloween mummy.

"That name doesn't even make sense, Jerry. He wasn't stealing hamburgers. Besides, the guy tackled like a 350-pound linebacker," Jon complained. "My bruises have bruises."

"Oh, we know. We saw the footage. Over and over and over."

"HA. HA. The hilarity that is my pain." He massaged his throbbing knee as they continued mocking.

"Lifting from an 85-year-old lady, though? That's low, Thompson. What, were there no babies with candy for you to steal?"

"He probably couldn't pick anyone else's pocket cleanly and had to go for the low-hanging fruit."

"Hey! I picked McKinley's pocket."

"McKinley is the 35-year-old male equivalent of an 85-year-old woman. The guy literally knits mittens for kittens during stakeouts."

Putting his head down on his desk, Jon groaned out, "You guys are the worst. Know that I truly hate each and every one of you."

"Aww, don't be like that, Jonny-boy. Here, we'll get a baby for you to practice your candy stealing skills on before your next assignment. Gino's wife is due to pop any day now."

*********

Dean had just left with Clint and Bucky, was probably still in the elevator, in fact, when Sam's phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket and seeing that it was Garth, he took a deep breath in preparation for Garth's brand of insane and answered.

"Hey Garth." Sam couldn't keep the trepidation out of his voice.

"Sam, hey, so just a head's up, you're gonna get a call in a few minutes from a Police Chief Garland. He's from the regional force in Jefferson, Missouri."

"What?" Sam's loud demand claimed the attention of Steve and Natasha, who had been opening take-out containers across the room. Tony was only a few feet away already watching Sam and trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Garth continued on as if Sam hadn't spoken. "Is he kinda scary? Sure, but he's just doing his job, ya know? And mostly it's his eyebrows, which he can't help. Well, I guess he could wax, but sometimes you just gotta let it grow, man. That's my opinion."

Sam could feel the vein on his forehead begin to pulse. "What?"

"Anyway, he's gonna be calling you about an FBI Agent Drew (that'd be me, btdubs. Named after Nancy, obviously). So, if you could be my supervisor and confirm I'm supposed to be on this case, that'd be fantastico."

Sam's hand was covering his eyes at this point, as if he could spare himself from seeing this train-wreck of a conversation play out. "Garth, what exactly are you hunting?"

"Oh yeah, it's the freakiest thing. Never seen or even heard of something like it before in my life, actually. I think it's–"

*BEEP BEEP*

"-Shit. Garland is calling me right now, Garth."

"Ooh! Okay, I'll let you go! Thanks a million, Sammy!"

"Garth, no, wait! What's the case?!"

*Click*

"Goddamnit, Garth!"

"Excuse me?" A stern voice responded to Sam's expletive.

Sam sent out a silent 'Kill me now' to Chuck when he realized his phone had immediately answered Garland's call after Garth unceremoniously hung up on him. He took a deep breath and adopted an identically stern tone.

"Who is this?"

"This is Chief Garland from the Jefferson Police Department in Missouri. Is this Special Agent Bond?"

Bond. Sam rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they managed to stay in their sockets. He made sure his back was to the Avengers when he answered.

"Yes, this is Special Agent Bond."

Behind him there was the distinct sound of choking.

"Supervisor to an Agent Drew?"

Though he wanted to just hang up, Sam ground out, "Yes."

"What the hell are you doing sending an agent down here? What reason do the feds have for stomping all over our crime scene?"

'Good question.' Sam wanted to say, but instead turned the question around. "Did Agent Drew not inform you?"

"He rambled off something about serial toe amputations being a link to Mafioso or some bullshit. I didn't comprehend much of it. He's rather…" Garland just trailed off, unable to come up with an accurate description for Garth.

"Agent Drew is one of our best agents. He was assigned to this case as it was discovered to be linked to a larger network of cases, the details of which I'm unable to disclose. Rest assured, he is operating with the full support of the FBI."

The initially stern Chief Garland released a huge sigh, revealing himself to be nothing more than a weary man trying to do his job while being made to suffer fools.

"Okay, well, could you at least tell him to stop touching everything before we can properly document it? He's got his hands in everything. At one point this morning he was juggling four severed toes. In front of children."

"…I'll speak to him."

"Thank you."

"If that is all Chief Garland?"

"Yeah, that's it."

Feeling a swell of sympathy for the stressed police chief, Sam said, "Have a beer on the bureau, Chief."

That garnered a chuckle out of the man. "Yeah, I think I just might. Your man just arrived."

Sam could hear Garth enter the office, "Sup Chief? Anymore piggies get chopped off the farm?"

"Two," Sam amended. "Have two beers on the bureau."

"I'll be having a couple scotches on the bureau, thank you very much."

"Fair. Good luck, Chief Garland. Want to hand the phone to Agent Drew and I'll speak to him right now?"

"Yes. One sec."

"Yello?"

"Agent Drew, you damned moron!" Sam ignored Garth's wounded noise and continued, "You can't go juggling severed toes around like you're Gacy at a kid's birthday!"

A faint 'What the hell?' was emitted from the audience behind Sam.

"I mean, I only dropped the one! I washed it off."

"Garth! No! You are to accommodate Police Chief Garland and follow his orders, such as not contaminating all the evidence. And if you have do have to contaminate all the evidence, don't let them know it was you. Hunting 101, Garth. Come on!"

"Yeah, alright, I hear ya."

"Also, you're buying that man a scotch."

"I'm more of a bubbly drink drinker."

Shaking his head in disbelief that this was his life right now, Sam all but shouted, "I don't care! You are buying the poor man whatever the hell drink he wants! Goodbye!"

Sam really wished he had a rotary receiver to slam down, as jabbing a thumb at the "End Call" icon wasn't even remotely satisfying.

He took a couple deep breaths to clear his head, but his moment was interrupted by a very loud throat-clearing.

*A-HEM*

Turning around, he was faced with Tony, Natasha, Steve, and Dr. Banner. Tony, naturally, was the one to speak up.

"So…that was weird."

"That was Garth," Sam stated.

"Mind explaining, 007?"

Sam let out a groan and made his way to the food. "Not before I eat something."

"Are you like Yoda or something?" Tony asked around a mouthful of falafel.

"Not really." Looking around at his captive audience, Sam went into detail. "Hunters only have each other to rely on when doing this job. Although we're trying to do the same job as the law – helping people and trying to keep chaos from taking over – the law isn't always on our side, so we generally have to resort to unlawful behavior in order to solve a case."

Looking around at his fellow Avengers, Tony could see they all understood that scenario. "We hear that."

Everyone was standing around the huge kitchen island eating from a selection of Bruce's preferred food.

Steve stood across from Sam and asked, "So, you never get any help from the law? What happens when you solve a case; what goes in their files?"

"It depends, really." Sam finished his bite of gyro and spoke, "Most of the time, we solve a case without the local police knowing what actually happened. I have no idea what they put in the reports. We tend to skip town pretty quickly afterwards. Sometimes, though, they end up finding out the truth and help us out. Once they realize you're on the same side as them, and you have most, if not all, of the answers, they get on board and prove they're made of pretty sturdy stuff. In the end, they still have to fudge the reports. You can't exactly site 'vampire' as a cause of death. We know a couple police officers who are also practicing hunters, which is really the best-case scenario. Not only are they equipped to deal with anything they encounter, but they've been useful in getting Dean and I out of binds. Having actual law enforcement vouching for you is pretty priceless in this business."

"Can't you just fake it till you make it like you did for Agent Drew?" Tony asked from where he was stationed beside Bruce, who was semi-skulking at the end of the island. He still wasn't coping well, but he was clearly interested in Sam's response.

Sam shrugged. "When the law throws you in jail, you sometimes need the law to bail you out. Fake Special Agent Bond probably won't be any help if Garth gets himself incarcerated. We know the risks."

Tony grew silent and pensive at his answer. It was apparent to him that the hunting community was grossly understaffed and underfunded. He had no idea what to do about those obstacles at the moment, but if this demon thing didn't sort itself out, then something would definitely need to be done. The Avengers wouldn't be available to assist in fending off the supernatural as their schedules were basically double-booked with space aliens.

"Depressing," He surmised. "I'm gonna go ahead and change the subject now. So, Sam, what do you do in your spare time? What jingles those jangles? And if you mention anything involving magic and/or fingers, so help me, Jarvis will make all of your showers cold ones."

Sam laughed. "That's 100% a Dean thing. Just be glad you don't have to share a room with him."

"Consider me ecstatic."

"I don't know, I guess I like exercising when I get the chance in between cases. I like running."

Steve's eyes lit up. "That's great! I love running. Sam and I go running almost every morning."

At Sam's confused look, Steve clarified, "Sam Wilson a.k.a. the Falcon. He's been out of town with Veteran Affairs for the past few days so I've been running alone. You interested in going running tomorrow morning?"

'Running with Captain America?!' Sam had to cough in order to suppress the hysterical giggle he could feel bubbling in his chest. As it was, he let out a high pitched, 'Sure!', and then immediately tried to replace it with a manlier "Sure," pitched two octaves lower.

Sam couldn't keep the excited grin off his face though. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Great. Another exercise fanatic. I'm gonna go find Bruce while you two freak out over your preferred spandex and the five-minute mile."

Sam hadn't even noticed that both Bruce and Natasha had left without saying a single word. He tried not to take it personally. He knew wrapping your head around the supernatural was difficult.

"Don't worry about it. They'll come around," Steve assured. "They're great teammates and genuinely good people. They just have to come to terms with it on their own."

"I completely understand."

All of a sudden, Sam felt the day catch up with him, and he realized he was exhausted. His adrenaline had finally run out. Letting out a huge yawn, he asked what time Steve wanted to go running and nodded (but almost died on the inside) when he said 5 a.m.

"I think this day is officially finished for me. I'm gonna call it a night. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have a good one, Sam. It's been great meeting you. Terrible circumstances, but I'm glad we've got you and Dean on our side, fighting the good fight."

Sam smiled and made his way to his and Dean's room.

*********

Clint brought up the subject of SHIELD on the walk back to the tower.

"We never did get around to your thoughts on SHIELD. What do you think of our cycloptic leader and his suited minions? Based on the shit you see on the daily, the intimidation tactics couldn't have phased you."

Dean shrugged. "I don't know enough about SHIELD, but suits are suits, even if that suit is wearing an eye-patch and a leather duster. There's so much red-tape bullshit that in the end they're all just monkeys doing the same dance. Fury seems like a good guy, you know, after you get past the abducting and detaining."

"You've got to forgive our Nicholas, first impressions aren't really where he excels. It's after impression #5 or #6 when he really shines."

That sounded unlikely to Dean, who ignored Clint's comment and brought up something he and Sam had wondered.

"What's the deal with Coulson?"

"What do you mean?"

"For a minion, the dude is mildly terrifying and terrifyingly mild, like he's T-1000 pretending to be a people."

Clint and Bucky exchanged glances. Most people outside of SHIELD wrote Coulson off as bland, unimportant, and non-threatening. Sam and Dean's ability to detect Coulson's actual threat level under all the mild was impressive and spoke to their experience.

"Coulson is kind of like Bruce. He's a solid guy, a fantastic agent, has an insane amount of zen, and the team loves him. Just…don't piss him off. Where Bruce hulks out and immediately smashes everything in sight until he calms down, Coulson remains calm, but smashes the shit you can't see, like the mortgage to your house. You won't feel it until weeks, maybe months, later. He's the type to go for a man's livelihood rather than his knees," Clint warned ominously.

Dean felt a faint shiver run through him at Clint's words.

Bucky couldn't help but snort at Dean's reaction to Clint's description of Stevie's #1 fan. "Don't worry about Coulson. Unless you're trying to kill him or you're talking shit about Steve, it's next to impossible to piss him off."

The Steve thing was confusing. "They together or something?" Dean was a 21st century dude, he didn't care if people with matching giblets wanted to tango, but he had a hard time wrapping his brain around the concept of Coulson and Captain America.

Bucky laughed at the idea, while Clint muttered 'Coulson wishes', before explaining, "Coulson grew up on Captain America crap. I guess he's got a room full of figurines and fake shields or something, and he's involved in a fan club."

"Involved is putting it mildly. I'm pretty sure he runs about three of them," Clint interjected.

Bucky looked a little disturbed at that information. "I don't know – or want to know – all of the details, but he's idolized Steve since he was a kid and takes great offence when someone talks shit about him."

Knowing that Coulson had the same childhood hero as Sammy served to humanize the enigmatic Agent and some of Dean's uneasiness towards the agent abated.

By this time they had made it all the way back to the tower and the elevator had dropped them off at the communal floor.

"Alright, Dean-o, we'll see you at ass o'clock tomorrow morning!" Clint slapped Dean heartily on the back as the three of them parted ways.

Dean stepped through the main door to his and Sam's guest suite to see Sam opening his laptop on the small dining table.

"Just in time to do our actual job!" Sam faux enthused.

Dean huffed. "Yeah, yeah. Just lemme go change."

As their bags were still in the car, and he wasn't about to go get them, he stripped to his boxers and t-shirt, before grabbing his robe and leaving his room.

At the reappearance of the robe, Sam was quick to threaten, "If the words 'leisure suit' come out of your mouth, I'll kill you after making you watch as I burn it."

"Alright, alright. Calm your tits, Samantha." Dean grabbed a beer and sat at the table. "So, what are we thinking? Some sort of war in Hell that's spilling topside?"

"I hate to say it, but I think we should call Crowley. And by 'we', I mean 'you." Sam took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Dean.

"Call Crowley?! That escalated fucking quickly! Since when is calling the King of Hell plan A?"

"Since SHIELD is expecting some sort of answer in like 12 hours."

"…point. Fine, I'll call him." Dean mulishly grabbed Sam's phone out of his hand and found Crowley's number under Sam's contacts. After letting it ring for a full minute (the King of Hell didn't have voicemail) Dean hung up. "Now what?"

"Now we get your phone and try again."

"What? Why?"

"Because, as sad as it is, you're kind of his best friend." Sam ignored Dean's disgusted face. "He's more likely to answer if the call is from your phone."

"That was maybe the grossest thing you've ever said to me."

"Just call him."

Dean called from his phone with the same result. "That can't be good, right?"

"We could try summoning him?" Sam suggested.

Dean was prevented from answering by Jarvis' stern voice. "Excuse me, sirs, but I must warn against summoning a potentially hostile entity into the tower without Mr. Stark's permission. If you do so, I will have no choice but to put the building into lockdown and notify the Avengers."

"I didn't like that option anyway," Dean quickly stated.

"So, what are we going to do tomorrow?" Sam was clearly stressed.

"I don't know why you're freaking out. This is a case and it'll take time to work it. If SHIELD can't understand that fact and is looking for answers immediately, then they're morons. We can always start running them through weapons and defense tomorrow." Dean was entirely unconcerned with meeting SHIELD's expectations. He cared about the case, but he and Sam were currently running on empty. Both exhausted from today, which felt like it has lasted years.

Sam let out a breath, "Yeah, you're right."

"Yeah, I know."

Sam rolled his eyes and gathered up his laptop to head to bed. Yawning, he said, "I'm calling it quits. Oh, FYI - I'm going running with Steve in the morning, so I might not be here when you wake up."

"Oh, it's Steve now, is it? Watch yourself, Coulson might try to claw your eyes out."

Dean waved off Sam's confused face, "Nevermind. Night, Sammy."

*********

"Mr. Winchester, sir, it is 6:30 AM on Friday, October 22, 2017. You have a meeting with Director Fury and Agent Coulson at SHIELD in 1.5 hours. Due to heavy traffic, it is recommended you leave the tower no later than 7:15 AM."

"Nnnngggggaaarrrrbbbllllrrr1!1" Dean let out an indecipherable, anguished groan at Jarvis' voice, to which the A.I. responded by opening the curtains and letting the blinding light of the sun flood the room.

"Argh, Jarvis! Good god, man! What the hell are you doing?!" Dean shoved his head under his pillow to evade the brightness.

"Your brother was kind enough to detail your preference for having the morning sun wake you."

"Goddamnit, Sam! Jarvis, close the freakin' curtains. My retinas are melting."

Jarvis acquiesced, and Dean relaxed when the room was once again encased in soothing darkness. He felt himself drift off back to sleep only to be woken up once more by Jarvis.

"Sir? It is now 6:40 AM."

"Jarvis, what do you think I need to do that's going to take me… (Dean got his fingers out to count)...35 minutes to get ready? Showering is a 5 minute affair and I'm literally gonna wear the same thing as yesterday to meet with SHIELD."

"There is a full buffet breakfast in the common area. Mr. Stark thought it would be beneficial to provide everyone with a meal before departing. Your brother is currently in attendance."

At the mention of food, Dean sat straight up, threw the covers off, and stumbled to the front door.

"Might I suggest pants, at the very least, sir?"

Hand on the door handle, Dean paused and looked down. "Right. Thanks, J."

"Of course, sir."

Clad only in an undershirt and boxers, Dean went to retrieve his clothes. Spotting the robe from yesterday draped along the back of the couch, he decided, screw it, he'd just throw that on. He was gonna have to shower anyway, there was no point in getting fully dressed.

Sam rolled his eyes when Dean entered the common area dressed in that stupid robe and slippers. Heedless of Sam and the Avengers already gathered around the table, Dean beelined it to the food on the counter and proceeded to fill his plate to the brim: six slices of bacon, three eggs, three hash browns, three sausages, four pancakes, and two donuts. He tried to pile on a third donut, but when he took a step forward, it threatened to plummet from atop his food mountain. He went to put it back on the counter dejectedly but, in a fit of genius, stuffed the entire thing in his mouth instead. Looking pleased with himself, he made his way to the coffee and filled a mug.

Finally, turning towards the table, he saw everyone staring at him.

"Mmmrrrnnnnggg," he muffled through a mouthful of sugared dough and made his way to sit beside Sammy.

"Yeah, morning to you, too, hungry hungry hippo." Clint snorted at the sight of Dean's plate, which was almost identical to Steve and Bucky's – two enhanced super soldiers who metabolized food 4x quicker than a normal person.

Sam grinned evilly when Dean plonked down beside him. "It's a beautiful morning, isn't it, Dean? Nice and bright."

Dean shot Sam the stink-eye and spoke out of a mouth still stuffed with donut, "You suck."

He finally noticed Sam's outfit. "That's an indecent amount of spandex for the breakfast table."

"I went running this morning, remember? Hence, the running gear."

Dean's face scrunched up in disgust. "Ugh, running. The cost of being healthy isn't worth it."

He then shoved a slice of bacon in his face, which signaled the official end of morning conversation with Dean. For the next fifteen minutes, he focused single-mindedly on relocating the food from the plate to his mouth.

Sam watched his brother, impressed. Not by his methodical eating - that was disgusting - but by his ability to adjust to the situation and compartmentalize. Yesterday, he wouldn't have been caught dead in front of the Avengers, especially Black Widow, in a fluffy robe and slippers with his hairy, bowed legs peeking out. (Sam was opting to ignore the embarrassing moment when they caught him fighting a robed Dean with a slipper.) After only a day, Dean was treating them as if they were nothing special, simply more people to whom he didn't have anything to prove.

After he was finished eating, Dean sat back in his chair and let out a contented sigh, patting his stomach.

He glanced around the table at everyone finishing their breakfast. There was a distracted and pensive air as almost everyone was lost in his or her own thoughts. Aside from a quiet conversation between Bruce and Tony who were huddled together at the end of the table, the only sound was the clinking of cutlery."

Looking over at Sam's food, he swiped a piece of bacon, ignored his brother's indignant 'Hey!' and stood up. "I'm gonna hit the showers. See y'all in a bit!"

Tony waited a few moments after Dean disappeared around the corner before looking at Sam, "I feel distinctly like liver of the chopped variety." He was used to a starry-eyed Dean.

Sam, also getting used to the people around him, grinned. "It's part of his 'charm'. Things generally only stay shiny and new for about a day. After that, it's old hat. Tomorrow, you'll be lucky if he even wears the robe."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI – There's a brief mention of verbal contracts that I've kinda just pulled out of the air to suit my whims. I don't know anything about laws and contracts, so sue me. (HA!)
> 
> Thank you once again to morrismsteph for beta-reading this chapter! Without her this chapter would be full of embarrassingly bad punctuation, logic holes, and unanswered questions. Any mistakes are obviously my own. :S

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Dean's voice was faint and breathy as he stared in awe at his surroundings, completely overwhelmed. "I've somehow died again and because I'm so friggin' awesome this is my new heaven."

Everywhere he looked his eyes were blessed by visions of polished chrome, glistening steel, and gleaming rubber. Dean had seen a lot of amazing shit in his day, but being in Tony Stark's state of the art garage surrounded by his mind-blowing car collection was a religious experience. If he hadn't already known about Chuck, the glorious beauty before him would've made him believe in a higher power.

Dean ignored Sam's 'Keep it in your pants' and slowly, reverently, ventured forth among the machines. A veritable sea of makes, models, and colours were all within stroking distance and each vehicle was absolute perfection. He had the insane urge to smash them up, just so he could experience the absolute pleasure and intimacy of putting them back together, piece by piece.

He didn't realized he had started whimpering until Sam said, "Alright, this is getting inappropriate."

Sam took Dean by the shoulders and steered him towards the Impala, which was parked at the back of the garage. "Let's get our gear and get out before you start molesting anymore of Mr. Stark's stuff."

"It's not molestation if they want it."

Sam watched as Dean ran a hand smoothly (Sam's brain refused the word sensually) over the hood of a black and white 69' Camaro and could swear he saw a full-bodied shiver run through his brother. "If we've died, then watching you get off on cars is my hell."

"Don't listen to him, sweetheart," Dean comforted a 1954 steel grey Mustang as they made their way closer to the Impala. "Samuel's a philistine." He looked at Sam pretentiously.

Sam shook his head, done with his ridiculous brother. He grabbed the keys from Dean and wretched open the Impala's trunk and secret compartment. "We've got the knife. What else do you want to bring to SHIELD?"

No response. He looked up at Dean's silence and saw his brother glaring murderously at the driver's side of the Impala.

"What's with the face?"

Dean's right eye twitched as he growled out, "Some dead man gouged my Baby."

Sam went to look and winced at the small dent (definitely not a gouge) on the door. Dean's face reddened and his breathing grew heavy as rage consumed him.

"Dean, relax, it's okay," Sam tried to quickly placate his melodramatic brother. "It'll be fine. I'm sure Mr. Stark will let you use his tools to fix her up when we get back. She'll be good as new by this time tomorrow."

Dean said nothing as he turned on his heel and stomped his way to the elevator.

Sam hurriedly grabbed some gear, locked the car, and followed his brother. "Dean, you're overreacting. Just be cool."

"Cool? I'm a goddamn cucumber, Sam." Dean glared at the elevator doors, fists clenched at his sides, and panted angrily the rest of the ride up to the communal floor.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Dean yelled, "STARK! Your goddamn valet smashed up my baby!"

Tony looked up from his tablet confused, "Who what now?"

Dean, his forehead vein pulsing, stated slowly and dangerously, "Your. Goddamn. Asshole. Valet. Smashed. Up. My. Car."

"At best, it's a minor dent with vague smash-like aspirations, Dean," Sam corrected, trying to tone down his brother's reaction.

Tony shook his head. "No, Happy parked your car in my personal garage. The valet didn't touch it. There's no way Happy damaged your car. I let him drive my cars, and if he was a denter, I wouldn't let him near them." He shrugged and said dismissively, "You've must've dinged it on something beforehand."

Dean was maybe the most appalled and insulted Sam had ever seen him at the insinuation he drove around dinging his car all over the place.

"I do not ding my car on shit!"

"Sir, if I may?" The calming voice of Jarvis interrupted. "I have reviewed the garage's surveillance footage and it appears DUM-E is responsible for the damage to Mr. Winchester's vehicle."

Tony's shoulders dropped and he muttered, "Of course, he is. Why wouldn't he be? He's really living up to his name."

That brought Dean up short, "Who the hell is DUM-E?"

Looking at Dean, Tony explained, "DUM-E is a bot in my workshop. He was my first Artificial Intelligence. I wrote most of his code when I was 'under the weather', so he's got a chronic case of the derp. I have no idea what he would've been doing in the garage, though. Jarvis?"

In response, the TV in the lounge area flicked on and what was clearly surveillance footage of the garage began playing.

Sam and Dean heard the machine before they saw it. The whirring of gears accompanied the hiss of hydraulics as the bot made its way through the garage. Their eyes were glued to the screen in anticipation of another of Tony Stark's mind-blowing technological masterpieces.

Dean was expecting nothing less than a humanoid robo-cop/terminator. He was severely disappointed when the creature that rolled into the frame looked like a beefed up arcade claw.

"Jesus, man, how drunk, stoned, and /or tripping were you?"

"Yes." Tony's succinct reply pretty much summed it up.

They watched as DUM-E zoomed around the garage, ignoring all of the cars until he got to the Impala. He stopped and then slowly wheeled a little closer, emitting a curious little beep at the new addition to the garage.

Dean braced himself for the moment the science fair reject attacked his baby, only to be confused when the thing erupted with excited beeps and wheeled a few feet away to retrieve a fire extinguisher stationed in the corner. As soon as the precious was in its claw, the demented appliance began twirling like a shotput launcher.

"The hell is it doing?!"

"That's his happy dance. He's kind of obsessed with fire extinguishers. It's a problem. He was banned from touching any of the extinguishers in the lab. Apparently, he's found a loophole and fallen off the wagon."

Dean glared at the fond note in Tony's voice. "It looks like an arcade claw with rabies."

Clearly too euphoric to pay attention to collateral damage, DUM-E twirled his way towards the elevator, bashing the fire extinguisher into the side of the Impala with a horrible crunch, which had both Tony and Dean sympathy-flinching. Not noticing he'd hit the car, or more likely just not caring, DUM-E continued on until he twirled his way out of the frame. They could hear his happy beeps and then another ominous bang-smash as he exited the garage off camera.

Jarvis flicked off the TV.

Dean looked over at Sam, who had some of the biggest heart eyes he'd ever seen. Trust his gigantic marshmallow of a brother to fall in love with the stupidest robot that could.

Turning to Tony, Dean aggressively demanded, "Well?"

"Simple mind, simple pleasures?" Wincing with guilt that his DUM-E damaged such a beautiful Impala, Tony offered, "I can bang the dent out for you no problem. Maybe even make some upgrades." Seeing the affronted look on Dean's face at the mere suggestion, he huffed, "OR you can have access to my tools, and I won't touch your precious baby."

"Fine."

"Fine. Now, Happy is waiting downstairs to take you two to SHIELD."

"Wait, we're not all going together?" The slightly childish question slipped out of Sam.

"We were going to Brady Bunch it, but Steve and Bucky wanted to take their bikes (pretty sure Bucky just likes feeling the wind through his hair) and the assassination twins apparently couldn't wait any longer to return to the mothership. I've gotta go wrangle Bruce, so we'll meet you all there. You two can either have Happy drive you or you can risk driving your completely totaled Impala."

"How are you guys going to get there?" Dean asked, not liking the prospect of being chauffeured by Happy.

"The bus," Tony deadpanned, walking away to retrieve Bruce.

***************

Never before had Happy hated the fact that his boss liked to drive himself around. Tony had opted to take his Maybach Exelero in the hopes that the drive would somehow cheer Dr. Banner up. Despite having had a 10 minute head start, Happy had been passed by Tony and Bruce 15 minutes ago.

"Alright, out. Both of you."

Happy's brusque voice came through the speakers. Not once during the drive from the tower to SHIELD did he lower the partition separating him from the delinquents in the back.

"Aww. Don't be like that, Stonehenge."

"Dean!" Sam hurried to apologize to Happy. "Ignore my brother, Mr. Hogan, he's a jerk-"

"-Bitch."

"-Thank you for the ride. We appreciate it."

"Just get out."

The millisecond they were out of the car, Happy made to peel away down the street with an impressive squealing of tires and burning of rubber. However, because New York city traffic was already jammed up at 8:00 a.m., he made it about 15 feet before he had to slam on the brakes or risk ploughing into neighbouring cars, all of which were taxis and honked at him for almost t-boning them. Sam and Dean could see Happy slump down in his seat trying to hide from the pissed off cabbies.

"That was satisfying."

"You're still an asshole….but, yeah," Sam had to agree.

Turning towards SHIELD's entrance, they were met with the blandest, most non-descript office building they'd ever seen.

"Is this the right place?" Sam looked for any identifying features.

"Yeah, look," Dean pointed to the SHIELD insignia engraved on the door handle. The logo was maybe the size of a quarter and was the only feature alluding to the purpose of the building. Paranoid bastards.

"May I help you?" A polite voice asked the brothers as they stepped into the building's lobby, which consisted solely of a receptionist, her desk, and a door.

"Yes, hello, we are here to see Agent Coulson. We're Sam and Dean Winchester. I think we might've been dropped off at the wrong door though," Sam explained.

While a valiant effort, the receptionist's attempt to mask her skepticism at that premise needed work. Sam stood a little straighter at her reaction, while Dean did not give a flying.

Maintaining her polite streak, she requested, "Just one moment, please," and picked up her phone to dial Coulson's assistant. "Hello, Ms. Lewis? It's Jacqueline from Reception. I have two men here stating they have a meeting with Agent Coulson - Sam and Dean Winchester. Are you able to confirm?"

"Yeah, Jackie, they're actually supposed to be in said meeting right now. What are they doing at reception?" Darcy shook her head, "Nevermind, doesn't matter. I'll come get them myself and take them up. Just a sec." Darcy hung up and quickly made her way to retrieve the two new mystery men.

As Coulson's assistant, Darcy had more inside scoops than she could fit in her cone. Generally, whatever Coulson knew, Darcy knew too. Over the year and half she'd worked for him, the two of them had developed a flawless system and were a great team. Darcy was trusted with information and papers that surpassed the clearance of even the Avengers. It was rare that she was left out of the loop. Whether that was because Coulson needed her assistance or the fact that she almost always 'forgot' to turn the comm off connecting his phone to hers, enabling her to eavesdrop on his conversations, didn't matter. Darcy was always informed, is the point. Except this time. She had no idea what was going on. She'd seen the news, like any other person on the planet, and had seen yesterday's news footage of two guys fighting the whatever-it-was after the Avengers had barely made a dent. She was smart enough to connect the dots. The two men meeting with the Avengers, Coulson, and Fury were obviously the men from yesterday, but she didn't actually know who they were or what they had been fighting. Very frustrating. One thing she did know, was that they had to be the reason behind her boss' most recent and bizarre request. Before coming into work this morning, he had asked her to retrieve the best pie New York had to offer and strategically place a few of them all over the office. Very weird. She huffed and puffed as she quickly made her way down towards the lobby.

The receptionist hung up and gave them a polite smile. "Someone will be down in just a moment."

The few beats of awkward silence following that statement were interrupted by a woman barreling out of a hidden panel on the other side of the room. A panel which immediately sealed back up once she stepped through and became completely indistinguishable from the rest of the smooth wall.

Sam and Dean let out impressed noises.

"Sam and Dean Winchester? Sorry I'm late. My name's Darcy Lewis. I'm Agent Coulson's assistant." Darcy walked towards them with her arm outstretched. The brothers were quick to shake her hand, especially Dean because damn.

"No problem, Ms. Lewis," Dean assured her as he shook her hand.

Darcy smiled at Dean and then turned to his brother. Her eyes widened as she took in the sheer size of one Sam Winchester. Darcy's height of 5'2" was completely dwarfed by Sam's 6'4". She had to crane her neck if any sort of eye contact was to be achieved. If she was the sort to be intimidated, now would be the time; however, intimidation wasn't really her jam, so Sam's height was just impressive. "Whoa."

She cupped her hands on either side of her mouth and, as though shouting from a great distance, mock-yelled with an echo, "Hello? Can you hear me…me…me?" and then turned to Dean and asked, "Does he even get reception up there?"

Dean assessed his brother. "You know, sometimes I'll see the lights flicker on for a couple seconds, but it's mostly just a dead zone after mile marker 6'2"."

"Hey!" Sam punched Dean in the arm, disgruntled.

"Fun and pretty!" she stated. Dean winked at her (she winked back, to Dean's delight), and Sam went slightly pink. "I'll take you up now." She turned and led them through the door after scanning her badge and punching in an access code.

Sam was surprised at the lack of detection equipment. They were carrying weapons, after all. "No offense, but isn't it a little easy to get in here?"

Darcy smirked, "Looks it, doesn't it? The door we just walked through scanned the shit out of you. You're in the system now, Supersize. You've clearly got weapons on your person, but because I've got the special code, you're able to walk through without getting zapped like a bug."

Halfway down the hall, Darcy's phone started blowing up with texts. "Shoot. Sorry, fellas, but I've gotta go. The room you want is super simple to find. There's an elevator at the end of this hall. You want the 10th floor and it's room 1002. There's only two rooms on that floor, so unless Sam's lights flicker off, you shouldn't have any problems." With that, she backtracked to a door with a keypad, punched in a code, and was gone.

"Okie dokie then," Dean shook his head and continued forward.

If it weren't for the guns holstered to everyone's side, Sam and Dean could've easily mistaken SHIELD headquarters for the New York branch of Dunder-Mifflin, it was so innocuous. Clean and high-end, sure, but there were cubicles, ringing phones, fax machines, and water coolers. It was a completely different facet of SHIELD than what they had encountered yesterday. The mind-numbingly boring facet, apparently.

They meandered their way down the hall towards the elevator, passing a breakroom on their way.

It took Sam about five steps before realizing Dean was no longer by his side. Backtracking, he peered into the breakroom, only to huff impatiently when he found his brother mooning over an entire pie.

This pie was perfect. Dean was almost sure he'd never encountered a more picture-perfect apple pie in his life. It was still warm, and the scent of freshly baked cinnamon and apple wafted through the air and scratched some itch in Dean's hindbrain. Unable to stop himself, he freed the pie from the aluminum plate, and took a bite.

Sam watched in mild horror as his brother full on bit into a pie. No fork, no knife, no hands. Just teeth first into someone else's pie.

"DEAN! Oh my god, what is wrong with you?!" He went to yank the pie out of Dean's hands, but Dean jerked away. Not willing to devolve into an incident similar to the robe/remote debacle, Sam threw up his hands in surrender, "FINE!", and proceeded to ignore both Dean and the pie as they continued on to the meeting.

***************

"Look who finally decided to show up," Tony complained for the sake of it from his spot beside Bruce. It was obvious that Tony didn't really care as he had a screwdriver and was fiddling with some contraption attached to his wrist.

"Yeah, well, this place is so damn boring I feel asleep on my way up here," Dean said through a mouthful of pie.

"Is that…are you eating a pie? You literally just ate." Bucky didn't want to food-shame, but he himself would be hard-pressed to fit in a pie after that breakfast.

"Why didn't you tell me this place had pie?" Dean accused the room in general. As if it was the responsibility of the Avengers to inform him when pie was imminent.

"Uh…cause it doesn't?" Clint trailed off, looking at Natasha and then Phil for confirmation. In all his years at SHIELD, not once had he encountered pie. Especially not one that looked as picturesque as the one Dean was currently demolishing. And he had made a point of going through all the breakrooms (and packed lunches - Shh!) on a bi-weekly basis.

Fury and Coulson exchanged discreet glances of shifty victory.

"Please, have a seat," Phil quickly moved the topic away from the suspicious appearance of desserts. "We were just discussing the likelihood of another attack similar to yesterday's events. As our resident consultants, what are your thoughts?"

"It's hard to say at this point," Sam fielded the question, seeing as Dean was pie-occupied. "We tried contacting an acquaintance last night who may be able to provide some insight; however, we were unable to reach him. Which is slightly ominous, in and of itself."

"Who is your acquaintance? If you think he could help, but is in danger, SHIELD could retrieve him," Coulson offered.

Dean laughed (and then choked because pie) while Sam said, "Uhh...no. Thanks, but no. Definitely not."

"Is it that Garth character?" Steve asked. "If he needs help, let SHIELD help him."

"No, it's not Garth. We wish it was Garth," Sam hedged.

"It's the King of Hell," Dean stated, blunt as ever.

Silence.

"Say again," Fury requested monotone.

Finished with his pie, Dean explained, "The King of Hell, a.k.a Crowley. We unloaded a lot of info yesterday, so long story short, he's the demonic frenemy who rules Hell and has helped save the world a couple of times."

"The one with the micro peen whose witch mom sold him for a goat or something," Clint snapped his fingers as he recalled.

"Gold star," Dean threw out a finger gun.

"Right. Anyway," Sam steered the conversation back on course, "we tried to reach out to him, but he didn't answer, which is surprisingly rare. Unfortunately, until another attack happens or we get in touch with Crowley, either by phone or by summoning, we're mostly left to hurry up and wait."

"Let me make myself perfectly clear: Summoning Satan 2.0 into SHIELD headquarters is NOT an option." Fury was not about to allow another unknown entity access to SHIELD.

"If Jarvis won't let us summon him in the tower-"

Tony sat straight up at that statement and let out a startled, "What?"

"-and you won't let us summon him here, then where the hell are we supposed to summon him?" Dean didn't mean to sound so petulant, but how the hell did they expect him and Sam to work under these conditions?

"Jarvis didn't say we couldn't, just that the tower would be put into lockdown. We can work with that, especially if we have no other option. We should call Cas before we resort to that plan, though," Sam reasoned.

"What?!" Tony's squawk went ignored.

Suddenly, Coulson held up his left hand for silence while his right hand went to the comm in his ear and he listened intently. He then ordered into the comm, "Dispatch Units 5 and 6 immediately; I'll dispatch Unit 1."

He turned to Fury, "Sir, there's a situation in Midtown. I'm afraid this meeting will need to be postponed."

Sam and Dean were unprepared for the flurry of motion that statement triggered. As soon as Steve stood up, it was like a switch was flicked, and he became Captain America. The others followed suit. No more slumping in seats, playing on phones, or dozing with his head on the table (Clint).

"Jarvis, talk to me." Like Coulson, Tony's finger went to a comm, which was a direct connect to Jarvis. With a flick of his phone, he launched a hologram video of the scene in question to hover over the table for everyone to watch.

Dean found it hard to believe that the guy who made this insanely impressive tech was also responsible for the 'roided out claw with a fetish for fire safety.

The room watched as a woman driving a crane with a wrecking ball proceeded to fuck shit up all over Midtown. She was laughing as she swung the ball, bashing it into anything and everything. There was something so perverted and warped about her smile that shivers raced down the spines of the room's occupants. The bulk of the crane easily pushed cars out of its path as she made her way slowly, seemingly aimless, down the street.

"I don't want to be 'that guy', but isn't this something the police should deal with? I mean, Earth's Mightiest Heroes can't be called every time a construction worker goes postal…huh…nevermind," Clint stopped talking as, with the wave of her hand, the woman sent people flying through the air. They watched as people were brutally smashed into buildings and storefronts whenever she waved her hand. It soon became clear that most of her projectiles were children. "Jesus Christ! She's targeted kids?! That psycho bitch!"

"That's a demon," Sam stated, the conclusion readily apparent to him and Dean. At this point in their extensive career, 8 times out of 10 they didn't even need to see black eyes to be able to identify a demon.

"Or it's a mutant with telekinetic abilities," Coulson calmly countered. "A scenario we've run into multiple times. We have no proof that this is a demon. Not to offend, but you and your brother are primed to see the supernatural. Potentially even where it is not."

The location and her route finally caught up to Tony and he instantly made for the door, cutting out the video as he took his phone with him. "If she's aiming for kids, then she's headed towards Midtown High and Peter!"

That name had all of the Avengers booking it out of the room.

Sam and Dean made to leave too, but were stopped by a 'hold on' motion from Fury. Coulson immediately dispatched another unit to the school.

"Peter?" Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged.

"None of your concern. They'll handle it." Fury stated.

"Uh, no, actually, they won't," Sam disputed. "That was a demon. Dean and I need to go. We have weapons that can actually kill her."

Coulson vetoed that idea. "I'm afraid we cannot dispatch you to an active crime scene without approving the both of you as field ready. As you are currently registered as non-combatant SHIELD consultants, it is against SHIELD's legal regulations to deploy you under your current status."

"Registered? We didn't sign anything; therefore, we're not yours to dispatch, so we're out of here." Dean stood up and looked to Sam to confirm this with his Stanford-educated brain. Unfortunately, the look on Sam's face was not heartening.

"Verbal contract," Coulson explained, "which you've acknowledged by stating, thus confirming, your status as our resident supernatural consultants."

Dean was enraged. "Are you kidding me? This is what we do on a daily fucking basis. Who the hell are you to tell us we can't do it now?"

Coulson, mild as ever, stated, "The people who currently have you surrounded 500 to 1. Approximately."

Dean blinked, taken aback by how many SHIELD agents were in the building, and felt supremely outgunned.

"Mr. Winchester, it is a simple issue to rectify. All that is required is the completion of a physical aptitude test conducted here in our facility. It typically takes an hour to complete."

"An hour?! We don't have an hour!" Sam stated as he stared at Coulson in disbelief at the suggestion.

Dean was over it. "CAS! We need the express train out of here, man! A demon is renovating Midtown."

The occupants of the room waited in silence. Fury and Coulson looked around with trepidation.

After 10 seconds without an answer, Dean's brows furrowed and tried again, "Castiel? Angel of the Chuck?" He waited another 5 seconds, "Cas?" He looked at Sam, worriedly, "You wanna try?"

"Castiel? If you can hear us, we really need your help."

No answer. Fury let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Smart. Would've been impressive even, if it had worked. Looks like you're back to square one."

As annoying and tedious up as all the red tape was, Fury wasn't about to sanction two untested civilians to fight alongside the Avengers. Especially not ones temporarily acting under SHIELD's jurisdiction. Yes, they had an impressive hunting background, but this was the big leagues and the world was watching. He needed proof that they were capable of going out there and not getting themselves or others blown up. He looked at his watch, looked at them, and then pointedly looked at the door. A wordless 'Hurry the fuck up' that had Sam and Dean following Coulson out the door as he requested, "Please follow me."

***************

Mr. Harrington watched as his class filed in for homeroom. He kept an eye on new transfer student, Abigail MacAllen, who had started at Midtown High a few weeks ago. Her first week here, he thought he had another bright and promising student. With each passing day, however, she had grown more and more withdrawn, looking tired and depressed. He had reached out to her two days ago and she had stated she was having trouble sleeping. He planned to reach out to her parents by the end of the week if he didn't see any improvement. Seeing her enter his classroom laughing with her friends was a surprising, but welcome, change. He watched as she took a seat in the front row, which she hadn't done since her first week here. She smiled as she took out her books and readied herself for class.

He'd keep an eye on her, but for now decided to chock the whole thing up to hormones. He remembered feeling feelings…until his beloved Tabitha divorced him, ripping out his heart and leaving him a hollowed out husk.

The bell pulled him from his musings, quickly followed by the arrival of his last two students, who straggled in a second from tardy. He caught the tail end of their conversation about spiders and eggs and how many Peter could potentially lay. Teenagers were getting weirder and weirder every year. And he was supposedly surrounded by the "smart" ones.

"How nice of you to join us, Mr. Leeds, Mr. Parker."

He received a meek "Sorry, Sir" from each of them as they took their seats.

Part of Mr. Harrington's daily agenda was to expose his students to the current events within their community. An idea which usually translated into him eating breakfast while the local news was projected onto the screen up front for his students to watch (or ignore as they fiddled on their phones). Everyone settled as the news started, hoping for more information on the weird attack from the day prior.

"Sam and Dean?!" A startled Abigail MacAllen watched the two men race across the screen. She'd heard about what had happened, but she hadn't seen any footage. As soon as she had arrived home yesterday after school and found out that the ghost was gone for good, she immediately crashed and slept for what felt like the first time in years. Almost 14 hours straight. Waking up from the sun and not a psycho ghost boy clawing her arms up was a luxury she would not soon take for granted.

"You know them?" Her friend was skeptical as the class watched them shoot, stab, and then kill the crazy person who had been terrorizing everyone.

"Yeah, they…uh…they helped my parents with something," Abigail trailed off vaguely, realizing too late that she couldn't actually divulge the truth about Sam and Dean without sounding like a crazy person.

Her friend shrugged, "They're hella hot."

That, Abigail didn't have to lie about, "Tell me about it."

The footage was interrupted by 'Breaking News'. The students remained surprisingly calm at the announcement of a woman driving a crane around Midtown.

"She came in like a wrecking ball!" Flash sang as they watched the wrecking ball smash into buildings. There were a few twitters of laughter.

"FLASH! A month's detention!" Mr. Harrington addressed the class, furious at the lack of respect. "This is serious. The fact that you are laughing is a disgrace. People are dying." He pointed to the screen. "That mentally disturbed woman is killing people. If I hear another disrespectful, ignorant comment out of anyone, there'll be suspension."

Mr. Harrington's uncharacteristic anger was met with subdued silence, everyone feeling properly chastised, when suddenly a heavy drumbeat and a jarring slash of electric guitar cut through the air, startling the bejesus out of everyone. They all looked around for the source of the noise and zeroed in on Peter Parker fumbling with his phone as a distorted voice said, "I am Iron Man!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry! Oh my god, I'm sorry! Just one sec!" Peter was mortified. Mr. Stark had personalized his ringtone to Black Sabbath's Iron Man. A fact Peter usually thought was awesome and the most amazing thing to have ever happened to his phone. If only he had remembered to put it on vibrate before class. Ugh, his life.

Peter answered his phone, unable to look away from Mr. Harrington's disapproving frown, "Umm, Mr. Stark? Now's not really a good time."

Everyone knew that Peter interned directly under Tony Stark at Stark Industries. Nobody bothered to pretend they weren't listening as he spoke to the genius/billionaire/playboy/philanthropist/IRONMAN.

"Yeah, I'm in class. We're watching it on the news." His eyes shot to the screen, and he didn't even think to lower his voice as he let out a startled, "Here? She's coming to Midtown High?!" He looked over to Ned and then Mr. Harrington, who, at Peter's words, retrieved his phone from his desk and contacted the Principal.

"Okay, I'll let my teacher know. No, of course I won't do anything stupid. What could I possibly do? I'm just a high school student. Of course I'll stay here." Peter hammed up the innocent act with a shrug, as though he was lying straight to Mr. Stark's face instead of over the phone about staying put.

***************

Considering the sheer amount of damage the woman and her crane had accomplished, it was almost anticlimactic that disabling the large vehicle was the work of 10 seconds with a couple blasts of Ironman's repulsors.

With an agonized groan, the crane came to a stop in the middle of ploughing over a lamp post. There were cheers from the idiots still on the street filming the woman's rampage on their phones.

Captain America stepped forward, "Keep your hands up and step out of the vehicle."

His order was met with coughing and wheezing from the woman in the crane's cockpit, which was quickly filling with smoke. She wretched open the door and immediately fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap of limbs. The dull thud of her landing garnered a few sympathy cringes from bystanders.

"Ma'am?" Steve took another step forward.

"Shit, that stings." The woman stood up groaning. There were shocked gasps at her injuries: her left leg was clearly broken, if the femur bone jutting out was any indication, her right arm hung limply at her side, and her neck was at a very unnatural angle.

"Ma'am! Just stay where you are and we'll call an ambulance." Rampaging maniac or not, the woman was injured and required medical attention, if only to ensure she lived long enough to suffer the consequences of her actions.

The woman scoffed, "You think this is bad?" She wretched her arm back into its socket and, with a horrible snap, twisted her neck back into place. "Wait until you see what I'm going to do to you." Her eyes flooded black as she took a step towards Steve, mindless of her injured leg, which gaped painfully with each step.

Still hovering over the scene, Tony fired a repulsor blast at her, giving Steve enough time to retreat to the rest of the team so they could face her as a unit. Even though they were clearly outgunned now that they realized she was a demon.

"Well, hello there." Her tone grew sultry as her gaze landed on Bruce, who had been hanging back, trying to hide behind Steve's considerable bulk. "Aren't you interesting." He shuddered as her eyes raked up and down his form. "Much more interesting than Hannah here." She gestured to the meatsuit she was currently wearing. "Curvy and kinda cute, but a little too plain and pasty for my tastes. I prefer something a little more colourful."

Suddenly, a huge funnel of black smoke poured out of her mouth and the girl dropped to the ground, motionless. In the blink of an eye, the blackness snaked its way to Bruce and forced its way down his throat.

"Bruce!" Tony screamed over the comms.

Bruce's shoulders drooped and his head fell to his chest. There was some indistinct mumbling and moaning as his head jerked back and forth, as though he was trying to escape nightmare.

After the longest 30 seconds of their lives, the jerking stopped and Bruce let out a deep breath. "I don't think I've ever had a meatsuit put up such a ruckus. Very admirable. Usually you all can't wait to be dominated."

Bruce's head jerked up revealing black eyes. The instinctual response of prey when faced with a predator had each Avenger taking several steps back at the sight.

"Rude! You shouldn't run away from your teammate," Bruce's voice chastised, "especially since he's already so self-conscious about his cranky friend in here. You know, the only reason he's on the team in the first place. Isn't that right, Brucie? The only thing that makes you interesting and worth keeping around."

"Really? That's your angle? You think Bruce is weak enough to believe any of that bullshit? He knows we're lucky to have him, whether he's green or not." Tony was quick to ridicule her attempt at mind-fucking Bruce (and quick to reassure Bruce in case he was in there listening).

"Ah. You must be Tony," Bruce's face smiled at him. "You're his favourite, you know. He likes that you aren't afraid of him. Oh! You're the green guy's favourite too. Well, it's a toss-up between you and the kid in the red and blue onesie. What a happy coincidence I'm already so close to his school." Bruce's hands clapped excitedly. "Excellent. I'll tear you two apart first!"

Transfixed with horror, the Avengers could only watch as the thing controlling Bruce's body forced his transformation into the Hulk. They'd been working alongside the Hulk for so long now they'd kind of stopped seeing his size. Because the Hulk was on their side, they also forgot just how terrifying he could be. They were quickly reminded as black eyes stared down at them from within all 13ft and 1400lbs of a demonically grinning Hulk.

"Shit," Steve breathed.

"Is that an order? Because I think I've already complied," Clint said faintly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hulk getting possessed was the initial idea that spawned this SPN/Avengers crossover. A scary scenario that I wanted to figure out how to 'organically' write.
> 
> I had no intention of writing Darcy as Coulson's PA, but there she be, apparently. For anyone that watches Brooklyn 99, I kind of view Darcy and Phil's relationship like Gina and Captain Holt's. She knows her stuff and is actually amazing at her job, but she's slightly 'insane in the membrane'.
> 
> Abigail MacAllen. I just thought it was interesting to explore how her life changed immediately for the better after Sam and Dean's help. Thus ends the MacAllen's participation in this fic. I hope.


	10. Chapter 10

As much as people poked fun at Sam's 6'4" frame, it occasionally did present a legitimate 'big and tall' problem, especially when crammed into average sized clothing. Looking at his reflection in the mirror of his changing room, Sam's only consolation was the thought that if he looked ridiculous in the "one size fits all" SHIELD-issued spandex shorts and t-shirt, then Dean must be looking extra stupid. If only because he'd be so clearly uncomfortable in gym wear. At least, that's what Sam told himself as he futilely attempted to adjust his shirt, which seemed determined to live life as a crop top. He admitted defeat when his shorts, apparently inspired by his slut of a shirt, decided to forgo decency and wedged themselves up into hot pants territory. Ignoring the ridiculous amount of man thigh he was displaying, Sam chose to instead embrace the fact that he was now able to tuck his shirt into his shorts. He just prayed to an absent Chuck that they stayed connected.

Upon exiting the changing room, he was met with the aggravating sight of Dean wearing the exact same clothes he'd been in since yesterday. Sam could feel his expression morph into what Dean described as bitch face #5.

"Nice spanx, Samantha."

As his jerk of a brother smirked at him, Sam's bitch face escalated to #8, "Why the hell haven't you changed?"

"Into that skintight onesie? Pass."

Sam huffed angrily and made for the door, "You know they're gonna be putting us through our paces, right? Exactly how easy do you think sit-ups and push-ups are going to be in jeans and steel-toed leather boots?"

"Aside from my birthday suit, my best work is done in denim and leather." Dean boasted, but Sam could see the worry etching its way across his features at the horror of heart healthy exercise.

Sam grinned evilly at the prospect and would've rubbed his hands together with malevolent glee, but said appendages were busy pulling at his shorts which had crept up even further into some very uncomfortable and indecent nooks and crannies.

Coulson met them outside of the locker room and didn't even blink at Dean's lack of appropriate attire. He clearly had Dean's number. He did, however, blink quite a few times at Sam's ill-fitting ensemble and had to noticeably quell the humor threatening to take over his face as he apologized.

"I apologize for the insufficient fit of SHIELD's standard issue training uniform. If you would like to wait a moment, more suitable attire can be retrieved."

While attempting to discreetly dislodge the shorts from his most indecent cranny, a pissed off Sam replied, "We've wasted enough time. Let's just get this over with so Dean and I can go stop the demon that's killing children as we all stand here."

All traces of humor left Coulson's face. He didn't bother refuting Sam's demon claim, just simply nodded and wordlessly led them into SHIELD's underground training facility, the sight of which left Sam and Dean flabbergasted.

Approximately the size of an airplane hangar, its location below Manhattan shouldn't have been physically possible. A massive rock wall to their right led climbers to a pedway ending in a dark doorway, indicating even more space beyond the current chamber. They watched as an agent who had been scaling the wall finally reached the top, unhooked his safety harness, pulled out his gun, and disappeared into the darkness to face whatever lurked beyond.

Dean turned to take in the rest of the room and felt a cold chill as he was met with all manner of unspeakable horror. A sea of treadmills, stationary bikes, ellipticals (not that Dean knew wtf they were), and countless machines and equipment filled an entire half of room.

As Coulson led them towards the cursed objects, Dean quietly mumbled a desperate, "Cas, man, about that 'profound bond' you keep mentioning, now would be a friggin' awesome time to put up, not shut up."

It was definitely a little concerning that Cas wasn't answering them, but there was a noticeable pep in Sam's step as he listened to his brother's unanswered pleas to be rescued from his cardio-filled fate. Coulson led them towards an office at the back of the room, ignoring the stares their trio garnered by the other occupants using the space. Sam and Dean could just make out the peanut gallery's confused muttering as they passed.

"Uh, what is Agent Coulson doing here? He never comes in here. This is supposed to be a safeplace! My safeplace!" An agent started melting down into a frazzled mess.

The other agents rolled their eyes, "Calm down, Jeffries. Coulson clearly has more important things to do than ream you out again for blowing the Cranston case."

"And he barely even said anything to you when he did."

In a shaky, traumatized voice, Jeffries explained, "It was the eyes, man. You want disappointed Coulson eyes in your life?"

The mocking commentary was replaced with horrified silence.

SHIELD's Director of Physiotherapy, Dr. Dennis Greer looked up in surprise as the infamous Agent Coulson entered his office. He immediately stood and extended his hand, which Coulson shook.

"Agent Coulson, sir! How many I be of service?" He nodded at the two agents behind Coulson in greeting, "Agents", and was a little taken aback when the one in plain-clothes snorted derisively.

"Good Day, Dr. Greer. I apologize for the lack of notice, but as a matter of urgency, I need two physical aptitude tests conducted immediately. Also for the sake of expediency, both tests will be conducted jointly."

The aptitude assessments were completed quarterly for specific circumstances: when the season's new recruits were being certified and annual certification renewal.

Each year he was tasked with creating a new test, ensuring both the agents' skills and SHIELD's evaluation didn't become stagnant by repeating the same test year after year. He prided himself on each test being more challenging, more painful, and more taxing than its predecessor. The seasoned agents both anticipated and dreaded their yearly recertification, knowing his course was no joke, but enjoying the comradery the quarterly event generated. The agents amped the event up until it was essentially considered SHIELD's own America Ninja Warrior. They used SHIELD's permanent in-house obstacle course to train for the event and place bets beforehand.

This year's aptitude assessment was set to reoccur in approximately 1.5 months for a fourth and final run. Setting up the course took roughly a week, requiring significant man power and organization. To administer this year's field course right now, with absolutely no prior notification, was literally impossible, but he could certainly create and conduct a version scaled to time.

He led them out of his office and towards the equipment and began formulating an outline, "I'll get them hooked up to monitors and started on calisthenics. I can incorporate aspects of the quarterly assessment; however, we will have to use the in-house obstacle course. The only real complication is recruiting agents for the combat section as I am unaware which agents are available to participate."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, the same thought running through their heads, 'Combat section?'

"I'll take care of that detail. The agents will be ready whenever you are," Coulson assured Greer before turning to the two Winchesters. "Gentlemen, I am aware this is not where you'd prefer to be; however, please keep in mind that this is a test, and like all tests there is a potential for failure. If your performance does not meet SHIELD's standards, then we will be unable to clear you as field-ready. I could say we will make this quick and painless; however, it is almost guaranteed to be painful and the duration is ultimately up to you."

After dropping that mic, Coulson nonchalantly turned and left, leaving a pair of semi-stunned brothers in his wake.

Phil knew that he and Nick were putting the Winchesters in a hell of a situation. A situation, he could admit, that was not entirely necessary. Yes, Sam and Dean both needed to be certified in order to be "officially" dispatched by SHIELD; however, if Coulson and Fury had any doubt in the abilities of their agents and Avengers, then the two supernatural consultants would be out there right now, to hell with the assessment. The opportunity to officially evaluate Sam and Dean was simply too tempting to pass up and would provide valuable insight into their abilities, and SHIELD's subsequent recruitment strategy.

Greer addressed the two men before him, "Alright, Agents –"

"-we're not agents," Dean was quick to shirk that label.

Greer's brow furrowed, "Pardon?"

"We're not a couple of SHIELD monkeys. No offense."

"May I ask why you're being tested, then?"

Dean just shrugged, forgoing a verbal answer.

Greer was confused, but got to work. Coulson wanted these two tested, so that it is what Greer would do.

"Regardless, I will take some preliminary measurements and then you will began with stretching, calisthenics, and then the actual assessment will begin." He motioned them to follow as he made his way towards a bunch of mats.

"Cali-what-ics?" Dean had no clue what the hell kind of word that was, but he was pretty sure it didn't bode well for him. Especially if Sam's smug smirk was any indication. He sent out yet another mental plea, 'Goddamn, Cas! Where are you, man?!'

Dr. Greer recorded their initial blood pressure, heart rate, and lung capacity – 'Excellent, Mr. Winchester. Excellent.' (Directed at Sam). No comment for Dean's results, which were average (if he knew Dean's diet, he'd be impressed). He then attached remote monitors to record blood pressure and heartrate for the duration of the assessment.

Greer led them over to the mats and instructed, "Alright, over here I'm going to ask you to do some calisthenics, or bodyweight exercises, targeting your chest, legs, and arms. As we're pressed for time, I simply want you to do as many as you possibly can of each. As soon as one of you can no longer continue on with a specific exercise, both of you will move on to the next. A friendly competition, if you will: who can outlast the other?"

He walked them through a series of stretches first. Sam almost lost it at Dean's attempt to touch his toes. While Sam's hands were flat on the ground ("Easy as pie, Dean!"), Dean's hands made it just past his knees.

Dean huffed and puffed out the words, "Shove it, Gumbi", as his arms struggled to extend a little more towards the steel-toes of his boots.

Greer watched Dean suffer through stretches and decided that would have to be good enough. He directed the two men to lie on the mats and begin an array of exercises, such as push-ups, sit-ups, and squats.

Sam, as Dr. Greer anticipated, performed outstandingly. Barely breaking a sweat as he motored through. Dean, on the other hand, struggled in comparison. And while his bulky attire certainly wasn't doing him any favours, Sam simply outclassed him in every single exercise. To be fair, Sam was in excellent, peak condition. If Dean went head to head with an average SHIELD agent, Greer was sure he'd do fine.

20 minutes later saw Dean pushing through a pretty tragic sit-up (number 45). By the time he'd finished it, he was red-faced and sweating and Sam had breezed through five. Unfortunately for Dean, whose performance so far met SHIELD's average and wasn't anything to scoff at, when directly compared to his brother, he appeared paltry and lacking. Especially since Sam was now shirtless, having literally ripped his shirt in two after his first sit-up.

Putting Dean out of his misery, Dr. Greer stated, "That's enough. You can stop. We'll start the next phase in just a moment.

"Oh, thank god." Dean let out a gust of breath and immediately aborted sit-up #46 in favour of flopping down, completely spread-eagle, onto his back.

Hidden behind a one-way mirror on the upper level, the agents Coulson had collected snickered at Dean's performance.

"This is what we have to fight? Talk about easy money."

"Yeah, too bad Thompson's all busted up. He's missing out."

"Does pathetic guy look familiar to anyone else?"

The 6 agents looked at Dean more closely while Coulson inwardly smirked. He was fully aware they had all been teasing poor Thompson after Dean had taken him out.

"No way...is that…Thompson's hamburglar?!" There was a literal gasp of surprise from the group. "What the hell is he doing here?"

As one, the agents all looked to Coulson expecting answers, which he did not deign to provide, "Are belated congratulations in order, agents? I seem to have missed the promotion dictating I answer to you."

He gave them a moment to fully realize their gross overstep and feel the weight of his unimpressed stare. Silencing the rushed apologizes with a wave of an impatient hand, he continued, "Who they are and why they are here is not up for discussion. All you need to know is that you are here to provide a physical challenge representative of SHIELD, so I expect you to conduct yourselves accordingly."

Going against the unknown would be good for his agents. In actuality, this was as much of a test for them as for Dean and Sam. Coulson was not one for giddiness, but he was very much anticipating the results.

Unfortunately for Coulson, it was at that exact moment his comm went off. His already silent agents almost didn't dare to breathe at the sight of Coulson's face somehow growing more serious. After a moment of listening, Coulson's stated, "I'll have them there as soon as possible, Captain."

Striding towards the doors, he didn't even look at his agents as he informed them they were no longer needed.

As soon as Sam and Dean saw Coulson's demeanor upon re-entering the training room, they knew something was wrong.

"The assessment will need to be postponed, gentlemen. It seems you were correct in your first analysis of the situation and are needed immediately onsite. Please follow me to the helicopter."

"Helicopter? As in a gigantic carrier pigeon of death? I'd rather Stonehenge drive."

Coulson looked at Dean and then at Sam, "Pardon?"

Realizing Dean was about to protest their fastest form of transportation, Sam turned to his brother, firmly gripped him by the shoulders, and spoke directly into his face, "Dean, I know being carted away in a flying eggbeater is scary." Dean nodded. "But you need to GET. YOUR. SHIT. TOGETHER." With each word, Sam shook Dean, as if he could physically shake some sense into his irrational brain.

As the soft sympathy in Sam's voice hardened into unsympathetic realness, Dean's expression went from comforted to betrayed.

"Dude."

The agents watched from above as Sam proceeded to shove his brother out the doors behind Coulson.

****************

"Mr. Parker! Where exactly do you think you're going?"

Peter stopped dead in his tracks and slumped his shoulders in defeat at being caught trying to escape the semi-organized mob of students herding towards the gym. After Mr. Stark had called Peter in the middle of class, Mr. Harrington had made quick work of alerting the Principal, who then ordered all students and teachers to the gym. The school was officially on lockdown. Nobody in or out. Peter had expected slipping away to be easy in the panicked chaos, but it was proving super difficult under the surprisingly vigilant eyes of his teacher. And instead of panicking, most of the students were goofing around, enjoying being out of class.

"Uhh…" Peter instinctively looked to Ned for help.

Ned, out his chair and therefore out of his element, unhelpfully supplied, "Uhh…clams! Peter ate some bad clams for breakfast and now he has…the...diarrhea...?"

Not only did Ned lie terribly, he also lied loudly. Most of their classmates heard him his declaration that Peter had a chronic case of #2.

"Eww!"

"Gross, Parker."

With every fiber of his being, Peter fought against the urge to web himself into the vents and die. Instead he focused on appearing as if he was about to explode gastrointestinally.

Mr. Harrington watched, unimpressed and unconvinced, as Peter began moaning and groaning and clutching his stomach as if suffering from clam-induced agony. The same Peter Parker who had been completely fine up until literally two seconds ago.

The spectacle was interrupted by an empty soda bouncing off the side of Peter's head. "Ow!"

"Ha! Nailed it!" Flash's victorious, douchey voice came from about 15 feet away behind a bunch of students.

"Detention, Mr. Thompson. We don't throw things and we don't litter."

The surrounding students laughed. Mr. Harrington sighed. This is what he got for wanting to teach; to do his part in ensuring the future wasn't inundated with mindless nincompoops. He should've just taught elementary school - virtually the same, but with less hormones.

"Please proceed to the gym, Mr. Parker. The facility, fortunately enough, houses both a washroom and a nurses station should your ailment prove too severe…or real."

"Yes sir." Peter muttered, head hanging low. He shuffled until he assimilated seamlessly back into the mob of students which continued swarming its way towards the gym.

"Clams, Ned? Really?" Peter criticized.

"Hey, mollusks can kill," Ned defended his choice. "What are you gonna do now?"

Peter took out his phone and sent a text to Mr. Stark, "I'll have to let Mr. Stark know that I might not be able to make it out to help."

He immediately got a responding text, which likely meant Mr. Stark was in the suit relaying through Jarvis: Parker, under no circumstances are you and your footie pyjamas to leave preschool. I am not joking. If I see even a hint of your brightly coloured unitard, you'll be grounded for the rest of the year and I'll take the suit back. Again.

Peter's heart sank upon reading the text.

Ned, leaning over to read it, let out a pitying, "Grounded by Ironman? Embarrassing. Does May know she has a co-parent?"

"Yes, unfortunately. They have teleconferences and everything," A prospect that Peter was initially thrilled about, but the novelty quickly wore off as soon as Mr. Stark and Aunt May started discussing curfews and bedtimes like he was five years old. "Ugh, what am I gonna do?"

They finally reached the gym and were piling onto the bleachers alongside everyone else. Ned looked at him like he was stupid, "Umm…maybe listen to the genius/billionaire/philanthropist/IRONMAN and not rush towards certain doom?"

Peter waved aside Ned's valid, life-saving advice and tried to figure out the best way to sneak out of the gym. "What if you create a distraction and I slink away?"

"Slink away?" Ned repeated flatly. "Leaving me to deal with the distraction's aftermath, probably resulting in my suspension?"

"Argh! They could need me and here I am trapped! Too stupid to figure my way out of a high school gym." Agonized, Peter put his head in his hands and pulled on his hair, as if he could literally pull an idea out of his skull.

Ned could only take about five seconds of his bestfriend's pain before caving, "Ugh, I hate you. Fine. I'll 'create a distraction' so you can go get yourself killed."

Peter looked up in surprise and smiled in relief, "Really? You're the best!"

"Yeah, well, you're the worst. Officially."

Before either of them could say anything else the shrill, tooth-rattling clanging of the school's fire alarm went off, accompanied seconds later by the sprinkler system. What had been a pretty subdued and civil quarantine, quickly turned insane. The teachers were incapable of dealing with the cumulative brute force of the rampaging students. Everyone was making for the exits, apparently convinced they were about to be burned alive.

Peter and Ned looked at each other in surprise.

"Yes!" Luckily nobody heard Peter's highly ill-timed celebration as he and Ned stood and followed the rush of freaking teenagers.

Getting to his locker was ridiculously easy. It was so chaotic, he probably could've changed into his suit right in the hallway and nobody would've noticed. He grabbed everything he needed and made for the front doors, figuring he'd be able to walk right out. In the event of a fire, Midtown High's fire safety protocol mandated the students congregate in front of the school, a minimum of 30 feet from the doors. Not a single student was adhering to that policy. There were kids clumped around the doorway, strewed about the stairs, faffing about around the sides of the school. It was a shit show. By the looks of it, the students had quickly gotten over their panic in the gym and the danger headed towards their school. Mostly there were murmurs about how someone prank-pulled the fire alarm and set off the sprinklers.

"I almost wish the fire was real. That way we could burn off some of this chaff."

Peter and Ned were startled as MJ's voice came from their right. Looking over at her, they followed her disdainful gaze which was focused on Flash who was bullying a small freshman.

With an aggrieved sigh, MJ stalked off to save the student, muttering, "Time to go help out yet another loser today."

Puzzled, Ned looked at Peter, who was too busy looking for his best exit to ponder the potential revelation in MJ's words.

"Alright, now's my best chance. I'll try to be back as quickly as possible. If the teacher comes looking for me don't say clams."

"Blame the mollusks. I'm on it."

"Come on, man!"

Ned shrugged, unconcerned with Peter's aversion to his cover of choice, "I live in the moment, so we'll see."

Shaking his head, Peter turned and as casually as possible strolled out the front gates and onto the sidewalk. As soon as he was no longer in sight of the school he started running. Hunkering behind a dumpster at the end of the nearest alley, he swiftly changed into his suit.

"Good day, Peter!" The friendly tone of Karen greeted him. "Shouldn't you be in first period right now?"

"Hey Karen. Uh, yeah. School's cancelled on account of the monster headed towards it."

"How fortuitous, considering the odds of you failing your Spanish test today were approximately 93%."

Instead of studying last night like he was supposed to, Peter had spent his evening stopping a few robberies, saving a hotdog cart from rolling into traffic (scored a free hotdog outta that one), rescuing a cat stranded on a 5th floor ledge, and then ended his night by saving a pigeon stuck in a gutter. All the while Karen's helpful reminders of how he needed to study droned on in the background. Peter loved Karen, but could do with less of the school-marming. It put a bit of a damper on the BAMF superhero thing. Peter was sure Mr. Stark wrote something in Karen's code to make her such a stickler for schoolwork. Ned had looked, but hadn't been able to locate any code of the sort. Admittedly, Tony was the Tony Starkso obviously Ned couldn't be expected to understand 100% of his coding.

"Yeah. Fortuitous," Peter began climbing the building for a better vantage point. "You got anything on the situation?"

"Sure do! There is a disturbance over on –"

"Whoa! Yeah, I see it!" As soon as Peter reached the top of the building, he saw the massive amounts of damage a few blocks over. He could also hear the sirens and general commotion all part and parcel of shit hitting the fan. He swung his way over so he could stand on top of the building closest to the fight (without being seen by Ironman, hopefully) to assess, "Holy Shit!"

"Language!" Karen's voice cheerfully chastised. Peter completely ignored his AI's mothering in favour of taking in the sight below him. Completely confused, he watched as Ironman fired a brutal repulsor blast at the team's angry (but usually kinda loveable) green mascot. Instead of the animal roar of an injured and pissed off Hulk, there was a very disturbing and deep laugh. The Hulk was laughing. Peter focused on the grinning face of his second favourite Avenger and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he looked at the eyes and saw black. Pitch black. Like nightmares staring out of his hero's face. Momentarily frozen with fear, Peter whispered to his AI, "K-Karen?"

Sounding slightly worried, she replied, "I don't know, Peter. Physiologically, he's 100% Dr. Banner/Hulk. Perhaps a spell?"

Shaking himself out of his panic, he let out a completely normal, completely non-hysterical breath, "Yeah, no, obviously. A spell. Makes perfect sense. Whew. Kinda scary, tho. I mean, I'm fine, but I totally understand if you're, like, a little freaked out, Karen."

"No, I'm good." Karen's ever chipper voice perked out.

"Oh, good. Well, me too, then. I'm good too." He gave two thumbs up, belatedly realizing he was basically giving them to himself as he was alone. "Okay, so I wanna stay under the radar, so let's just watch for a hot minute, k?"

"Sure thing, Peter. I'm ready when you are."

Fearing the wrath of a weirdly parental Mr. Stark, Peter planned on watching for as long as possible, only stepping in if absolutely necessary. Like, if the situation was so dire, there would be no way that Mr. Stark could possibly be mad that Peter had disobeyed his orders. For 30 seconds, Peter was happy with his plan and stayed low on the rooftop, watching and waiting. Surprisingly there weren't a bunch of civilians gawking with their phones out. The street appeared empty except for the team below. Peter began to notice that the Avengers weren't really fighting. Yeah, Tony was shooting at the Hulk, but it looked more like a stall tactic, as if he and the team were waiting for someone. Back-up maybe?

At second 31, Peter's plan of waiting and watching was officially trash.

A little boy, maybe 5 or 6, was heading straight towards the Hulk. Decked out in a Spiderman hoodie and toy webslingers, the kid had his right arm extended, clearly planning on 'webbing' the Hulk with whatever foamy goo sprayed out of the toy. The lights on his little sneakers lit up non-stop as he stumbled over the broken bits of Midtown strewn all over the street.

Of course the kamikaze kid is wearing Spiderman merch. Of course. It couldn't be a pint-sized Ironman or a teeny Winter Soldier, no. It had to be a Spiderman. Normally seeing a kid wearing his stuff would make his day (his whole week, really), but he was never going to hear the end of this from the team. That is if they managed to avoid getting Hulked to death.

Due to the amount of debris and chaos, Peter's mini-me was currently out of everyone else's sightline. The kid was coming up on the Hulk's right-side and, once spotted, there was absolutely no way that anyone other than Freaky Hulk would get to the kid in time. Except for Peter, if he planned it right. Peter had maybe 20 seconds before the brave little idiot was spotted and then inevitably smashed. Peter quickly scaled his way down the side of the building and began sneaking across the street, staying behind the insane amount of damage so the Hulk wouldn't spot him. He made it a little over halfway before the kid caught the Hulk's creepy attention.

Black-eyes lit up with unholy glee as the Hulk smiled mockingly at the little would-be hero, "Why you must be the infamous Spiderman! Gotta admit, I thought you'd be taller in person."

Finally seeing the child, the Avengers raced to rescue him, but with a wave of Hulk's hand, they were all stopped in their tracks by an invisible force.

"Uh, that's new. Karen, are you sure that's the real Hulk? Last time I checked, our green dude was less magic-y and more smash-y." Peter continued making his way over trying to figure out the best angle of attack.

"I can reconfirm that his physiology is 100% Dr. Banner/Hulk. However, as there is no residual trace or signature (magical or alien), I am unable to read the energy he used."

"Great. Fantastic. So I can't kill him because he's the Hulk, and I don't want to hurt him because he's Dr. Banner, and I can't beat him because he's both of those things plus maybe-telekinesis. Ugh. I really wish I was failing a Spanish test right now."

The Hulk continued taunting the little boy as Peter made his way closer, "You're clearly ready to fight. You know what, I'll even let you take the first shot." The Hulk spread his arms out, standing about 10 feet away from the kid, whose arm was still held out ready to shoot. "Go ahead, _Spiderman_. Shoot me."

Even though the kid's lip started trembling and his arm started shaking, he raised his arm up higher, scrunched his eyes closed, and pushed the button on his webshooter, which in turn emitted a bunch of random laser noises and spewed out some bright blue silly string that drooped to the ground.

The Hulk laughed at the flaccid string and said, super inappropriately, "Performance anxiety?"

The kid started crying then when he opened his eyes and saw his gun hadn't done anything.

"Crying? Really? What a pussy," Hulk scoffed, rolling his eyes. (Peter found it super strange to hear him speaking clearly). Apparently this version of Hulk liked to play with his prey, "Why don't you take one more shot. If you can hit me, I won't kill you. I'll even come closer to give you a better chance." He stepped closer to the kid and shut his eyes as if scared.

Peter's opening couldn't have been more perfect. He immediately launched himself the last 20 feet, grabbed the kid, launched a web grenade at the Hulk, and booked it up the closest building, trying to stay out of sight. The Hulk let out a startled yell when the webbing hit and, opening his eyes, let out the scariest, otherworldly Hulk-roar Peter had ever heard. The little boy, who had been gaping at the real-life Spiderman, started crying again at the sound. Adrenaline pumping, Peter continued running the rooftops until he found the police on the streets below. Dropping the kid off, he then raced back.

"You are so lucky there was a kid that needed saving, otherwise, you would be grounded for life right now." Tony's voice scolded as Peter was patched in to the team's comm.

"Hey guys!" He discreetly waved from his rooftop perch.

Having been distracted, the Hulk's invisible hold on the team released and they were able to move again.

"What is this?!" Still partially covered in webbing, the Hulk struggled to remove the sticky strands, "Is this shit coming out of you?!"

Deciding the keep him distracted, Peter launched another grenade at him, prompting another scream of frustration.

"HA! Yes! Finally something works against this bastard!" Clint was doing a series of fist pumps on the ground.

"So, what's with Hulky? Karen says it's Dr. Banner, but since when did he get black-eyes and telekinesis?"

The team was oddly silent. To buy them more time, Peter launched yet another grenade at the Hulk, who in turn, let out another roar. The uncomfortable pause grew, and looking at his team from his rooftop perch, he could see they were talking to each other, but had muted his access. He rolled his eyes. It's like Mr. Stark forgot the stuff he put in Peter's suit.

"Karen, engage reconnaissance mode."

"- can't tell him!" Tony's voice was borderline frantic.

"We have to tell him. He deserves to know." Calm and collected, Steve argued, "He just did more in 5 minutes than we've been able to accomplish in 25. He needs to know, Tony, for his own safety."

"Fine! But if he has nightmares and has to start sleeping with the light on, that's on you!"

"Okay, I'm telling him," Clint stated impatiently. They needed to wrap this up.

Before Peter could even begin figuring out their conversation, Clint's voice came back on the comm, "So, awful, long story short – Heaven and Hell are real, meaning Angels and Demons are real, meaning that's a demon. Well, that's a demon possessing the Hulk/Bruce - OW!" Clint whined when Natasha reached over and punched him in the arm for such a shitty delivery.

From the ground, the entire team looked up to see how Peter was taking the news. As he stood at the edge of the building, they watched as he literally scratched his masked head in confusion, "…uh…what?"

"Just shoot another grenade and get down here," Tony's resigned voice sighed.

Turning back to the angry Hulk (the webbing was surprisingly effective in keeping in contained), Peter shot him again, earning a slew of extremely loud and imaginative cursing. As soon as he arrived at the group, he was immediately shoved into the middle, an Avenger barrier on all sides. Huffing at the protective huddle, he demanded, "What is going on?"

Clint opened his mouth to offer another terrible explanation, but his mouth was immediately covered by Bucky's metal hand, "No." Bucky smirked at Clint's affronted expression.

Tony offered a quick explanation, while keeping an eye on the Hulk, who was diligently working his way through the webbing, "Okay, this is going to be shocking, but Bruce is currently being possessed by a demon. From Hell. That's what the incident yesterday was as well: A demon. From Hell."

Peter blinked at the group. Opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and slowly asked, "…o…k… so how do we get it out of Dr. Banner?"

"Well, we've got two guys on the way –"

"-consultants," Steve respectfully described.

"- who deal with this stuff all the time. Until then we just keep it occupied so it doesn't rampage all over the city."

Surprisingly calm (Tony was chocking it up to shock), Peter asked, "And how much longer till they get here because I'm low on webbing. I definitely don't have enough for another web grenade."

The team's already grim faces grew grimmer at that information. Right on cue, the Hulk busted out of the last of Peter's grenade. Looking at the team and then at the Hulk, who was the angriest Peter had ever seen him, Peter got an idea. He double-checked his web levels, making sure he had enough for what he wanted to do.

"Hey, do you guys remember the scene from Harry Potter with Fawkes and the basilisk?"

The noise of utter frustration from Tony was uncannily similar to his Aunt May's when Peter told her he needed a new cellphone for the third time.

"We aren't 12 year olds, SpiderBOY. Just make your point."

"I forget that a bunch of you are like 100 years old. Just watch." Peter busted out of the group's clutches, swung on top the lamppost closest to #EvilHulk, and let loose the last of his webbing in clumps right over Hulk's eyes, instructing Karen to combo it with the taser web.

****************

The chopper ride was terrible. Never again would Dean set foot in one of the airborne deathtraps. Yeah, the ride only took 3 minutes, but they were some of the worst three minutes of Dean's life. And he spent 40 years in Hell.

Although Coulson had caught them up to speed during the ride, Sam and Dean were still taken aback by the sight before them as they arrived at the scene: Spiderman was electrocuting Hulk's eyeballs as the rest of the Avengers cheered from below. The amount of noise coming out of the green giant had Dean wanting to cover his ears.

As they approached the cheering group, Dean greeted, "Having fun?"

Startled, the Avengers turned to the new arrivals. The immediate relief showing on their faces was almost as shocking as the Hulk getting it right in the eyes.

"Thank god or, whatshisname - Chuck. You're finally here. It's got Bruce." Tony gestured towards the Hulk.

Luckily, Coulson had the forethought to grab the hunting gear they had brought to SHIELD.

"Yep, on it." Sam immediately set to work retrieving shotguns and holy water from his bag.

His words and actions were met with silence as the Avengers took in Sam's appearance. At their reaction, Dean started laughing, which he was doing a shit job of hiding behind fake-coughs.

Wearing tiny spandex shorts and shirtless, Sam dutifully ignored them and willed the blood to stop rushing to his face in embarrassment. Coulson hadn't thought to grab his clothes from the locker room and Sam hadn't even realized he was basically wearing a speedo until it was too late. He only realized it when they were already in the chopper and the pilot had given him a weird look. Dean, the absolute jerk, refused to give Sam one of the three shirts he was wearing. Coulson had offered Sam his jacket, but when he had tried it on, he couldn't get it over his shoulders. So, not the best day Sam's ever had.

"What's with naked guy?" A young voice piped up.

Before Sam could do more than huff indignantly at Spiderman's question, a few things happened in rapid succession: the demon recovered from having his eyeballs tazed, saw the Winchesters, freaked, and immediately tried to exit the Hulk. Its escape was interrupted by a huge column of rainbow coming down on top of him. When their eyes recovered from the blinding brightness, Sam and Dean were met with the sight of Thor standing on top of an unconscious Hulk. It appeared Thor had used him as the landing pad for his rainbow bridge thing and he now had the bifrost landing sigil embedded on his chest. Smiling at the group, Thor gave a wave, set his hammer down on top of the Hulk's chest, and made his way towards them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a sincere thank you to all the people who PM'd me, encouraging me to continue with the story, despite having previously revealed the plot in a separate post (which I've since removed).
> 
> I just lost the will to write anything. I'm trying to get excited about it, but it's kinda forced, so hopefully this chapter isn't too sucky.
> 
> Also, the wonderful Morrismsteph **has not** beta'd this chapter. So read at your own peril.
> 
> Warning: I'm being willy-nilly with the demon's people-flinging ability. I haven't pegged it perfectly. Sorry!

Few and far between were the moments when the supernatural inspired so much awe that the Winchesters were stopped in their tracks and rendered speechless. In their horrifying life of experience, the supernatural tended to serve up dread with a complimentary side order of bone-deep, world-weariness. Surmised to say, they've seen a lot of shit they'd rather forget. However, seeing Thor, the god of thunder, take out a demonized Hulk using a bright-ass rainbow beam was not on that particular shit list. In fact, when he kicked the bucket for the final goddamn time, Dean is fully expecting this awesomely insane moment to be on his reel of greatest hits in Heaven.

"Comrades!" Bellowed with a borderline inappropriate amount of joviality given the situation, Thor's greeting ignited the rest of his teammates into motion. Tony was the first to surge forward with an ecstatic "Pointbreak!" quickly followed by a rush of Avengers who all glomped onto their reunited member. (Bucky would later maintain that he _did not_ glomp because glomping was the action of sentimental marshmallows. He did, however, deliver a hearty back slap, which Thor had then _turned_ into a full body glomp.)

"Oh my _god of thunder_ , it's Thor," the slightly hysterical stating of the obvious had Sam and Dean looking to their right at a mind-blown Spiderman. Clearly suffering a system overload, he was hopping from foot to foot like he had to pee and spastically flapping his hands like they were malfunctioning.

"Man, relax before you wet your spandex," Dean instructed, his tone ripe with judgement.

Sam scoffed at his hypocritical brother, "Yeah, cause your insides aren't doing the same weird spaz dance his outsides are doing."

"Dudes, it's _Thor_ ," Peter's hands stopped flapping in order to point directly at the god in question. As if Sam and Dean had somehow missed the last two minutes of life and were blind to the great clump of hugging Avengers not 20 feet away. Then, seemingly speaking to himself, they listened as he exasperatedly muttered, "No, I'm pretty sure now is _not_ the perfect time to show Thor my impression, thank you very much."

Dean uncharitably observed the guy was losing his damn mind.

Sam, not one to judge a minor mental breakdown, ignored Peter's mutterings and instead focused on something else alarming, "Excuse me, Spider…man, but how old are you?"

Dean straightened at that question, realizing that Sam was right – Spiderman sounded much more like a Spider _boy_.

Spiderman's suspiciously quick assurance of "I'm old enough – don't worry about it" was undermined by the sharp crack of an octave jumping midway through his words.

Sam's expression turned to mush at that pubescent voice crack, obviously picturing a baby-faced, puppy-child underneath the mask.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the slight mush-like consistency of his own internal response. He watched as Sam opened his mouth, no doubt to spew kittens and rainbows at the apparent youth, only to be (thankfully) interrupted by the terrifying sounds of a possessed Hulk slowly regaining consciousness.

At hearing the ominous sound, the assemblage of Avengers de-glomped and quickly made their way back over while Sam and Dean crouched down to collect weapons from their bags.

Retrieving a couple guns and the knife, Dean turned to Sam, "We agree that now is not the time to trap and interrogate, right?"

With an ammo belt full of rock salt shells strapped to his bare chest, Sam cocked his shotgun and nodded, "I'll keep him distracted. You just focus on stabbing him where you can reach."

"Shoot and stab - that's your big plan? What the hell do you think we've been doing for the last 30 minutes?" Tony looked at the brothers flabbergasted.

Dean waved the knife as he said, "Magic, demon killing knife, remember?"

There was a quiet smattering of 'oh, right' from the group and one heartfelt, 'I hate magic' from Tony.

Knowing it was only a matter of seconds before the demon fully came to, Sam quickly asked, "Dr. Banner isn't affected by what happens to the Hulk, right?"

Appropriately concerned for his science sibling, Tony answered warily, "He's generally indestructible, but just because it hasn't been accomplished, doesn't mean it isn't possible. Especially if magic cutlery is involved." He paused to give the knife the hairy eyeball, "How exactly does that thing work?"

"Cliff notes: the mumbo-jumbo carved into the blade ensures the knife kills the demon, but it also has the shitty side-effect of killing the person being possessed. Usually not an issue since demons typically kill their host before we come along with the pointy end," with his usual sensitivity and tact, Dean mimed 'coming along with the pointy end' by vicious stabbing the air in front of his own face.

Tony's face grew ashen as he took in Dean's performance. Up against their run of the mill villains, Tony's money was 112% on his Hulky Bruce coming out unscathed. Up against supernatural weaponry designed to kill something that was, arguably, already dead? Tony was not prepared to make the same wager.

Attempting to mask the worry in his voice, Tony said, "Okay, so great 'Plan Z'. Truly stellar work. Makes me real excited to hear all about 'Plan A' now." Quietly, he tacked on a small, but sincere, plea for an alternative route other than Bruce's probable death, " _Please_."

"Listen, we know it's not ideal, but our only other option is exorcism which poses the logistical issue of keeping him in place long enough for us to read him his rites," Sam understood and was sympathetic to Tony's fear for his friend, but they really didn't have many choices. "We'd normally just trap or tie the demon down, but our usual methods aren't going to work with this hulked-out version."

Dean added, "We can't risk jolly green running off or having the demon leave Dr. Banner just to possess some other poor bastard."

"Physically keeping him in one place won't be a problem because of Thor's hammer," Steve stated, like Sam and Dean were just supposed to accept that illogical logic.

"Yes, that darkness is most definitely not worthy of the mighty Mjolnir," Thor intoned.

Not understanding how a glorified tool belt accessory was going to help in this instance, but not willing to waste any more time, Dean just said, "Right. Cause obviously. Let's go, Sam," and ran towards a now awakened Hulk approximately 70 feet away.

The closer they got, the more apparent it became that the thing was well and truly stuck. They stopped 10 feet away from it just to stare because the struggle was real. Lying on its back with the hammer pinning it to the ground, the demon was ineffectively tugging on the handle with both hands and had yet to notice its audience….until Sam shot it in the neck.

Yelling out in pain and realizing the Winchesters had arrived, the demon's efforts to remove the hammer doubled as it let out an extremely frustrated cry of, "What the hell is this thing?!"

Dean, ignoring the demon, turned to his brother, "Hey Sam, know what time it is?"

"…if you say 'Hammertime', I swear to –"

"-IT'S HAMMERTIME!" Dean quickly yelled over Sam, futilely trying to prevent his nerd brother from ruining his punchline. " _Come on_ , man!"

Having given up trying to remove whatever the hell was on its chest, the demon just groaned as it was subjected to the Winchester's idiot rambles, "This angry, green asshole is such a sweet piece, but I'm out. Dealing with you two wads was not on the agenda."

The Hulk's mouth stretched open painfully wide as a plume of black rushed to escape. Barely a second into the demon's evacuation, Sam speed-recited the counter exorcism and everyone watched as the struggling smoke was seemingly pushed back down into the Hulk by an invisible force.

"Nice work, Sammy!" Dean complimented.

" _Yeah, nice work, Sammy_ ," the Hulk's deep, guttural voice mocked. "I know you want me to stay, but I don't have any dolla dolla bills, y'all, to shove down those hotpants. Why don't you take this hammer off and maybe I'll find something fun to do to you for free."

Shuddering at the perv factor of those ominous words, Dean immediately started the incantation to send it back to Hell. Before he could say more than, "Gross dude. _Exorcizamus te_ -", the demon flicked its wrist and he and Sam were sent flying.

The Avengers watched in horror as their only real hope was bashed into a concrete wall.

"Shit! Cap, game plan?" Clint had an explosive arrow nocked and was ready to let it lose on Cap's word.

Steve was saved from having to come up with a plan by the shocking sight of the Winchesters immediately getting back up from their crash. Sam, due to his overexposure, was bleeding quite heavily.

"That doesn't look good, Sammy. You alright?" Ignoring his own throbbing shoulder, Dean watched as Sam hissed in pain, twisting to look at his damaged side. Visible through the oozing blood were large pieces of gravel imbedded in his skin.

Kicking himself for being such a jerk earlier, Dean took off his flannel button down and handed it to his brother, leaving himself in a black, short-sleeved t-shirt. Unfortunately, Sam still looked ridiculous. In a buttoned up red and black flannel that fell a bit past the end of his shorts, he was just a tower of hair, flannel, and legs.

From their spot, Dean once again tried the exorcism, making it only as far as, " _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis_ " before the demon roared and he and Sam were again sent flying. This time they were launched towards the Avengers like bowling balls towards pins.

Captain America, Spiderman, and Thor immediately stepped forward to catch them. While they did technically succeed, they were more like glorified landing pads as the brothers' momentum knocked them all on their asses. The five of them took a second to recover from the collision.

"Thanks. I guess," Dean groaned.

Tony grabbed Dean's arm and hauled him up, "So, Plan A? Not great. Needs work. What's Plan B?"

"Who feels like being a distraction?" Sam asked as Steve helped him to his feet, careful of his injured side which was bleeding through Dean's shirt.

"Ooh! We do! Pick us, pick us!" Clint's hand jumped into the air, hauling Bucky's metal arm up along with it. He waved them around like an idiot, while Bucky just stood beside him looking resigned as his arm was flailed around.

A familiar scream tore through the air before anyone could tell Clint he was a moron. They looked and saw the Hulk had somehow once again gotten his hands on the tiny Spiderman wannabe. The child was sobbing as the demon had him pinned to the side of a building.

"What?! Spiderman, I thought you dealt with this little idiot? Where are this kid's parents?!" Tony silently lamented today's youth.

"I did deal with him, Mr. Stark!" A confused Spiderman stated, "I left him with a group of police officers. I dunno what he's doing back here."

Tony immediately blasted into the air towards the kid while the other Avengers and Spiderman followed suit on ground. Sam and Dean stayed back.

"I'm over this shit. We're summoning Crowley tonight," almost nothing pissed Dean off more than demons preying on kids.

Sam, equally pissed, pointed out the silver-lining, "At least we've got our distraction."

Dean nodded, "Stay low and we'll make our way over so we come up behind its head."

"Let's go."

They were in the middle of the road, a good 70 feet away from the Hulk. Staying low to the ground, they were able to make their way to the sidewalk and creep their way up behind. During their trek they watched as every single Avenger was pinged away like a gnat. After playing with his food, the demon had launched the bite-sized Spiderman down a side street. There was no way an adult, let alone a child, could survive being thrown that far, but Steve immediately raced after him on the off chance the kid wasn't a mangled splat against the pavement. Clint was set up on a rooftop across the street, launching explosive arrows directly at the demon's face. When he had been tossed at the building, he had managed to get enough of a foothold to scale up the face of it using balconies and ledges. Everyone else was too close to the demon be able to do any real damage. The second they landed a hit, they were immediately thrown. Natasha and Bucky were both lying unconscious 30 feet down the street. Ironman's suit had seen better days – both repulsors kept blinking out, making Tony's flight uncoordinated and jerky. It looked to be only a matter of time before they gave out completely. Spiderman had a huge gash across his stomach and was limping. His webbing stores depleted. Thor had a few scrapes, but was otherwise fine; laughing and goading the demon to focus solely on him. Not wanting to remove Mjolnir, thus unable to conduct lightning, Thor's main goal was to be annoying. Physically he was strong enough to break Hulk's arm, but as he figured that wouldn't stop the demon from using it, he didn't want to needlessly damage his friend.

Seeing the Winchesters come up behind Hulk's head, the remaining fighters doubled their attacks to ensure the thing stayed focused on them. It wasn't until the first strands of the twice-failed exorcism began that the demon remembered it had something more dangerous than the Avengers to worry about.

"You stupid sonofabit – AAHHH!"

The demon's words ended in a scream as Sam let loose as many rock salt rounds as he could right in Hulk's face. Dean continued reciting the incantation, the demon thrashing against the pull, until unexpectedly, a gigantic green hand grabbed Sam and begun squeezing. Sam couldn't suppress his pained cries as the chunks of gravel dug deeper into his side.

"SAM!" Distracted by Sam's capture, Dean stopped exorcising.

"Keep going!" Sam's words were barely audible through his pained screams as the demon squeezed harder.

"Screw this," Dean forwent the exorcism in favour of grabbing the knife out of his holster, rushing forward, and stabbing the demon in the thigh. The knife would kill the demon regardless of where the knife was stabbed. Dean was hoping a thigh-stabbing wouldn't result in Bruce's death. Risking Bruce had been the last resort, but he wasn't about to risk Sam's life.

Sam was dropped to the ground as the demon screamed and tried to grab the knife.

Just like the day before, the Avengers watched as the demon lit up like it was being electrocuted, screaming in agony the entire time. Flashing between forms, they watched as the Hulk finally shrunk down revealing an unconscious Bruce, covered in bruises and blood.

Thor rushed to remove Mjolnir from Bruce's fragile chest as Tony and Nat checked his vitals.

When he couldn't find Bruce's pulse, Tony felt his own heart stutter and stall only for it to jumpstart into overdrive a few moments later when a panicked Natasha stated, "He's not breathing!"

Without exchanging another word, Natasha and Tony quickly began CPR as everyone else gathered around and silently watched. Unbeknownst to the Avengers, both Sam and Dean were praying to anyone who'd listen. Considering Cas was M.I.A., they didn't truly expect an answer. They had burned a lot of bridges among the angels, some before they were even built.

"Bruce!" Steve approached the group, the front of his uniform covered in blood.

Bucky immediately went to check him over, looking for the source of the blood. Steve pushed his hands away and said solemnly, "It's not mine."

Looking at the sorrow on his friend's face, Bucky said, "It's not your fault the kid didn't make it, Steve. There was nothing we could've done."

At his words, Steve grew frustrated, "That's the whole point, Bucky! We're completely useless. Without the Winchesters, we'd all probably be dead right now."

"Rogers, mind shutting the hell up about dead teammates right now?" Tony sharply ordered from where he was doing chest compressions on an unresponsive Bruce.

Uncharacteristically, Steve cursed, "Shit. Sorry."

Realizing his calls were never going to be answered, Sam abandoned praying and tried to figure something else out. If they killed Bruce Banner/the Hulk, he'd never forgive himself. "We need a defibrillator. Did anyone call the paramedics?"

"Of course," Clint answered, almost insulted that Sam took them for utter incompetents. "I comm'd SHIELD right after Bruce was stabbed. They're on their way."

Looking around, Sam didn't see Earth's Mightiest Heroes. He saw a group of people watching a loved one die. Silent except for Tony's compression count, they watched, faces drawn and serious. It was especially strange seeing even Thor motionless and hushed. The god of thunder had been boisterous and downright jolly up until that point. Sam's eyes widened in realization. God of Thunder.

"Uh, guys, isn't Thor basically a walking defibrillator?"

"Thor is basically a walking bomb." Still doing compressions, Tony elaborated, "He harnesses too much energy. Direct exposure would kill Bruce." Tony's face froze and his hands fell away from Bruce, clearly some sort of lightbulb moment was happening.

"TONY!" Natasha yelled at him to continue administering chest compressions.

"Clint, take over for me." Without arguing with Tony, Clint immediately took over. Tony stood up, went to his dead suit standing open a few feet away, and climbed inside. "Thor, I need you to zap me with everything you got. The suit is completely dead, but once you juice it up, I can modify hopefully modify the reactor to act as defibrillator if I can get at least one of the repulsors partially working. I can't believe we didn't think of this before. This isn't even a genius idea. We're all just idiots."

It was a testament to their love for Bruce that all rationality seemed to fly out the window when faced with losing him.

Thor was in the process of manually closing Tony's suit shut, essentially trapping him inside, when a smooth, feminine voice stopped him, "That won't be necessary, Thor Odinson of Asgard."

Shocked, the group turned towards the newcomer.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony rather belligerently inquired.

Before she had a chance to respond, Sam's exasperated voice shouted, "Really, Dean?! Really?! Have you learned absolutely nothing?"

Dean shrugged, unrepentant, and greeted the new arrival, "Hi Billy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed that chapter.
> 
> I know I said Season 12 wasn't included, but for the purpose of this story, I'm going to reference what we know about Billy from more recent seasons and include Billy and Dean's weird relationship. Just ignore the presence of Mary in the series.
> 
> Fyi, for my sanity, I'm just gonna ignore the 2 supernatural episodes that mentioned Odin and Thor's hammer: "Hammer of the Gods" and "Tiger Mommy".


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI – I don’t know the extent of a reaper’s powers, so I’m maybe taking liberties with that aspect. 
> 
> This chapter was beta’d by the awesome Morrismsteph!! Any remaining errors are obviously mine, but if any of you want them, you can have them!

A smirk slowly slid over the reaper’s face as she acknowledged Dean, “Winchester.” Taking in the assembled heroes, she observed, “An interesting assortment, even for you.” Her eyes stopped on Steve, who flushed and squirmed a bit under her piercing gaze, “Very interesting.” 

“So, can you –” at Billie’s condescending glance, Dean quickly amended, “Will you help?” He gestured to the unresponsive Bruce, whose colour was already pallid, and lips tinged blue. 

Having stopped in shock at the sudden appearance of whatever the hell ‘Billie’ was, Natasha and Clint quickly returned their efforts towards resuscitating Bruce. 

Casting a dismissive glance at the prone man, Billie met Dean’s eyes, “To help implies a degree of selfless generosity you know for a fact I don’t possess. So no, I will not _help_ you.” Her lips quirked up at the collective slumping of shoulders from the group, save for the Winchesters, who were braced, anticipating her next words, “I will, however, consent to a trade.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm, stopping him from jumping straight into another idiotic deal, “We don’t need her, Dean. Tony and Thor can save him with the suit.”

“You can save the dying. You can’t save the dead,” Billie stated, utterly unmoved by the resulting chaos caused by her revelation of Bruce’s death. 

The group turned to look at Bruce’s motionless form, Tony immediately abandoning the suit to rush to his side. It was obvious she was right. Bruce was dead. Unable to stop himself, Tony let out a sound of anguish at the terrible sight of his brother in all but blood lying lifeless on the ground. 

For as long as he could remember, Tony’s reaction in the face of overwhelming pain was to either lash out or drink himself comatose. Lacking access to alcohol, he turned towards the most logical targets. With tears in his eyes and voice, he glared at Sam and Dean, “You killed him! All you had to do was finish the exorcism, but instead you killed him with that goddamned knife! What good are you two?!”

“It was killing Sam!” Dean defended instinctively, before reaching into his very shallow well of tact and sensitivity and pulling out some kindness, “I’m sorry. Truly, I am, but I couldn’t let my brother die. I just couldn’t. Not when I could save him. I really thought stabbing Bruce in the thigh would prevent the knife from killing him.”

Billie rolled her eyes at the drama and with a few chastising ‘tsks’, cut off Tony’s next words and gathered everyone’s attention, “If you had bothered to pay attention to the man you were all so desperate to save, you’d see he clearly died from internal injuries.”

Looking at Bruce, it was obvious she was right. Dark bruises littered his torso and chest, indicative of internal bleeding. 

“That knife didn’t kill him. The demon did. Before you killed it, I’m assuming it sought to inflict as much wear and tear to its meatsuit as possible. Probably ruptured his organs just for the hell of it. Barring those injuries, your friend would’ve survived – the knife wouldn’t have killed him.” 

Tony looked at Bruce and then at Sam and Dean, “Sorry. I’m an asshole.”

Dean just shook his head while Sam assured Tony, “No apologies necessary.”

“Okay, Billie. What’s it gonna cost for you to bring Bruce back?” Dean knew it wasn’t going to be cheap. 

“Oh, just a favour. One little IOU of my choosing to be determined and collected when needed.”

Resignation and dread overtook both Sam and Dean’s expressions. That was a steep price tag. 

At the brothers’ hesitation, Tony erupted with anger, his remorse over blaming the brothers for Bruce’s death forgotten, “What the hell are you waiting for?! Give this woman whatever she wants!”

“She’s not a woman,” Sam stated. “She’s a reaper.”

Billie casually waved at the collection of heroes, who were all staring at her in shock. 

“Reaper? As in ‘Grim, The’?” Tony incredulously posed. He, along with the rest of his teammates, cast another assessing look at the beautiful woman. Dressed in a brown leather jacket, tight black shirt, and fitted blue jeans, she was a far cry from the skeletal, scythe-wielding specter of death commonly associated with Halloween costumes. “Not to be rude, but I was expecting more billowing cloak and, oh, I don’t know, _less_ skin?” 

Shaking his head, Sam corrected Tony, “Billie’s not The Grim Reaper, she’s a reaper. As in the species. There’s loads of them. She’s not Death. He’s…uh…dead,” he finished awkwardly, making to avoid the glare Billie shot at him at the reminder of her boss’ death.

In the face of Sam and Dean’s continued hesitation, she offered, “Look, I’ll sweeten the pot.” She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them only to stare wordlessly at the Winchesters.

Bemused, Dean queried, “Uh, what?”

Holding up a finger demanding patience, Billie didn’t offer any explanation. Her bargaining chip appeared a moment later in the form of a beaten and bloodied Castiel. Stumbling forward upon landing, he was prevented from face-planting onto the pavement by the two accompanying reapers holding him up. 

“CAS!” Sam and Dean shot forward, only to almost run straight into Billie, who had positioned herself directly in front of Cas, blocking him from Sam and Dean. 

“You bitch!” Dean spat, “You had Cas this whole time?”

Billie huffed impatiently, “No, you simpleton. He was being held by demons. I merely retrieved him. So we either have a deal or he goes back to the cozy ring of holy fire I just plucked him from - up to you.”

Billie knew she had them. Obviously, they were going to save Cas from holy fire, but Sam took a moment to shrewdly assess Billie’s desperation to obtain a favour from the Winchesters. 

“What could you possibly need a favour from us for? You’ve made it perfectly clear what you think of us.”

“There are strange things afoot, and until I know what’s going on, having one Sam and Dean Winchester up my sleeve is a nice little contingency plan. And if you end up proving completely useless…well, the cannons are always in need of more fodder.”

“Why do reapers care about random demons stirring shit up topside?” Dean had never known reapers to give a rat’s ass about anything other than ferrying souls.

“They’re merely a symptom, not the disease,” Billie’s face creased with worry as she spoke. 

“A symptom?!” Flabbergasted, Tony continued, “What ‘disease’ has this kind of symptom?” 

Disregarding Tony completely, Billie impatiently pressed Sam and Dean, “Do we have a deal or not, Winchesters?”

“It’s not Lucifer, is it?” Sam warily asked, wanting at least that much confirmation before he and Dean agreed to anything. 

Billie shook her head, “Lucifer is still in the cage. If I’m certain of one thing, it’s that he’s not behind any of these events.”

“I don’t know if I’m relieved or not,” Dean despaired.

“Uh, I’m voting for relief. It’s the devil. What the hell could possibly be worse than literal Satan?!” Poor, naïve, ignorant Clint.

His words were met with an ominous silence before Billie mockingly tutted, “Oh, honey.” 

Nobody bothered with Clint’s clueless, “Huh?”

Wanting to get this show on the road, Dean conceded to Billie’s request, “Alright, alright – hand over Cas, heal Bruce, and we have a deal.” 

As shit as this situation was, getting Cas back was always a win in Dean’s book. Looking at the angel, it was clear he was in rough shape. Not only physically, but his grace had obviously taken some sort of beating as the numerous cuts were still oozing blood instead of healing. He looked ready to pass out, barely hanging onto consciousness as the two reapers propped him up like a puppet. 

“Excellent. I’ll be in touch,” With that, Billie nodded to the reapers, and the two of them promptly disappeared, leaving Castiel to crumple to the ground in a pile of limbs and trench coat. Dean rushed forward to check him over.

Before Billie could leave, Sam yelled, “Wait!” and quickly checked, “You don’t happen to know where Crowley is, do you?”

Raising a sardonic eyebrow at Sam, Billie stated, “Of course I know where Crowley is, but that information will cost you, and I know you’re not willing to make a second deal with me for one measly king of hell.” Without waiting for confirmation, Billie vanished from sight. 

Sam huffed out a frustrated breath before walking over to help Dean pick up a fallen Cas. Looking at the still-stunned Avengers, Sam barked out, “Somebody check on Bruce!”

A flurry of panicked rushing met his order as the Avengers flocked to their downed teammate. 

Looking at Bruce, it was immediately apparent to everyone that he was no longer post-mortem. His colour had returned, the bruises indicating internal bleeding were gone, and his chest was rising and falling as he breathed on his own. 

“Bruce! Can you hear me? Wake up!” Tony gently jostled his friend and almost passed out from relief at the pained groan that met his words. 

“Ughhhh...” Bruce continued to moan as he slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the concerned faces of his teammates all peering down at him. “What happened?”

“We’ll fill you in later, B. Just tell us what hurts.”

Bruce managed to moan, “Everything,” before passing out.

“BRUCE!” The team absolutely lost it, which was understandable considering the last time Bruce passed out, he died.

At the commotion, the two hunters and one angel looked over. Cas was doing much better. No longer surrounded by holy fire, he was able to focus enough to heal his body and stand on his own. 

“He’s alive. Just exhausted. He will be fine given enough rest,” Cas informed the frantic group, having used his grace to assess Bruce. Turning his attention to Sam and Dean, he spoke, “I must return to Heaven immediately.” He raised his hand, halting the immediate protests from the brothers, “I must warn them. It is unclear what’s coming, but its power level is immense and I believe the Host is in its sights. Time is of the essence. I will meet up with you afterwards.” As per Cas’ normal exit etiquette, he promptly left Sam and Dean without another word. 

“Friggin’ great. Thanks for that, Cas,” Dean grumpily began to pick up their discarded weapons as Sam made his way over to the Avengers. 

“You guys okay?” Taking in each member, Sam was a little worried to see just how pale everyone looked. Tony, Clint, and Natasha were still on the ground, hovering over an unconscious Bruce. Thor was stoic and unmoving as he stood guard, surveying the street. Bucky and Steve stood together, silent. Beside them was a slightly shaking Spiderman, who Sam focused on, “You okay there, Spiderman?” He walked over and placed a stabilizing hand on the kid’s shoulder. 

Startled out of his thoughts, Peter jumped at the hand that landed on his shoulder, “W-what? Oh yeah, I’m good. No problem.”

“You sure? Demons and reapers…it’s a lot to take in,” Sam acknowledged before continuing gently, “It’s okay if you’re scared.”

“Who’s scared out of their mind? Not me!” a clearly terrified Spiderman denied. He then began to argue with someone Sam couldn’t see, “No, I’m _not_ , Karen! You are! No, _you’re_ the one who’s scared!” 

Peter’s one-sided conversation drew everyone’s attention and provided some much-needed levity to the situation. 

“Aww, Webbins, don’t worry about it. We’re all a little shook up.” It was absolutely true, but Clint couldn’t help but poke Pete’s attempt at machoism with a mocking tone.

“I’m not shook up, you’re shook up!” At everyone’s pointed look at his shaking hands, Peter quickly hid them behind his back. “You guys suck.” He did lean into the metal arm that Bucky threw around his shoulders, though, and was obviously bolstered when Natasha stepped up and shielded his other side, bumping shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Mother Russia will protect you,” Bucky stated, laying on the accent thickly. While his promise may have sounded like a joke, he was completely serious. He and Natasha pretty much adored the youngest Avenger (the entire team did). He reminded Bucky of his younger siblings and, while she never said as much, Bucky suspected Peter pinged whatever maternal instincts Natasha had left after the red room. 

“Ty dazhe ne russkiy,” Natasha stated. (You’re not even Russian)

“Dostatochno blizko,” Bucky shrugged. (Close enough)

The moment was interrupted when SHIELD’s medical team finally arrived at the scene. After that, everything seemed to happen in a blur. Bruce was loaded into SHIELD medical transport, and Sam’s wounds were tended to onsite before everyone (minus Bruce) was seated around a table in SHIELD’s main conference room. Director Fury and Agent Coulson were at the head of the table waiting for everyone to collect themselves. 

An awestruck Spiderman was the first to speak, unable to contain himself any longer, “OMG! I can’t believe I’m in SHIELD! This is so awesome! Ned is gonna flip out!”

At Peter’s teenaged voice, Tony went from slumped in his chair with his eyes closed to sitting up, fully alert. “Peter? What in the hell are you doing here?! Get back to school!” 

Too busy arguing with each other, neither Tony nor Peter thought to hide the teenager’s name from Sam and Dean. 

Peter groaned as Tony’s parental instincts kicked in, “Nooo! Mr. Stark, please! I want to stay for the debriefing. Please?? I promise I won’t tell Ned!”

“Nope. You’ve already missed enough school. I’ve seen your Spanish grade, kid, and I’m embarrassed to know you.” Tony took out his phone and sent a quick text, “I’ve got Happy waiting outside to take you back to kindergarten. Now shoo. I’ll be calling your aunt later to discuss just how much therapy you’re going to need after today.”

Grumbling, Spiderman stood and mulishly slunk out of the room, “I can’t believe I have to go, yet naked guy gets to stay. At least _I’m_ wearing pants.”

At the reminder of his state of his attire (or lack thereof), Sam flushed and squirmed in his seat, “Right, can I, uh, get my clothes back?” 

Coulson immediately stood and retrieved the bundle of Sam’s clothing which he had ready in the corner. “My sincerest apologies, Mr. Winchester.” 

Sam wordlessly accepted his clothes and took a moment to pull his jeans on over the spandex shorts and replace Dean’s tattered flannel with his own shirt. 

“Now that the minors are gone and everyone’s as decent as they’re going to get, let’s start with you, Thor.” Fury wanted to get this debriefing over with before another demon decided to make his life difficult, “Care to explain how it was you arrived at the damn near perfect moment?”

A very serious Thor revealed, “I’ve requested Heimdall keep an eye on the Avengers whilst I am on Asgard. He saw as Bruce’s control was overwhelmed by a foreign entity and witnessed you all fighting a losing battle against a darkness the likes of which we’ve never encountered.”

“Time out,” Tony interrupted, his hands in a ‘T’ formation. “So there aren’t demons on Asgard?”

Clint let out a petulant, “No fair.”

“How does that work?” From his seat between Thor and Natasha, Tony spoke to Sam and Dean, who were seated on the other side of the table next to Steve and Bucky.

Dean just shook his head, “Honestly, I have no friggin’ idea. To put it mildly, Chuck is an odd duck, so I don’t know what’s going on with other worlds. Cas probably knows.”

“Speaking of, where is Castiel?” Fury had some questions for the socially awkward, yet highly unnerving, Angel of the Lord.

“Back in heaven, trying to figure shit out,” Dean shrugged.

“Well, what shit have we managed to figure out here on Earth?” Fury hated not having information. The World Security Council was going to be on his ass about this soon enough, and if he didn’t know details, the twitchy yuppies would probably try to nuke New York again.

“You need to see it to believe, Patches. Jarvis, you got that video feed ready to go?” Tony spoke aloud to the room. 

“Yes, sir.”

Fury’s one eye twitched in aggravation at both the ‘Patches’ and the fact that Stark had once again uploaded his AI into SHIELD’s system. They had literally just purged Jarvis out of their mainframe not two days ago. The damn AI was like a cockroach. 

“Great, thanks, J.” To everyone else, Tony stated, “Instead of rehashing everything verbally, like a couple of Dark Agers, Jarvis collected CCTV footage of the fight.”

As he had earlier in the day (he couldn’t believe it was the same day), Tony flicked his phone towards the middle of the room, launching a holographic video feed of the battle. 

They watched as Bruce was possessed and forced to transform into the Hulk. The team was pretty much useless until Spiderman showed up and, after saving the idiot kid, web-grenaded the Hulk into temporary submission. They got to see Thor’s arrival a second time, which had them all cheering and clapping. The reappearance of the kid (little moron) and then as he was flung down an alley and Steve rushed to save him. They watched as Sam and Dean bravely approached the demon as he struggled in vain to remove Mjolnir. There were groans from the room’s occupants as they were subjected to Dean’s terrible Mjolnir-inspired “Hammer time.” (“Shut up, I’m hilarious.”) Fury and Coulson took particular note of just how quickly Sam and Dean bounced back after being flung into the side of a building - especially Sam, who was pretty worse for wear and clearly in pain from his bleeding side. They watched as the Hulk was finally stopped and a solemn Steve quietly rejoined the group after having confirmed the child’s death. The arrival of Billie was just as shocking on video, as was the appearance of Castiel, and then Billie’s resurrection of Bruce. The feed cut out once SHIELD arrived at the scene.

As they watched the part of the video showing Steve’s return from chasing the flung kid, both Sam and Dean stiffened in their chairs. As soon as the video ended, the two of them raced through a conversation that baffled the rest of the room:

"Well, shit." - Dean  
"Yeah." - Sam  
"I've got four rounds." - Dean  
"I've got the cuffs.” - Sam  
"It'll have to do." - Dean

The two Winchesters then exploded into a flurry of action. Dean whipped out his gun, turned to his left, and kicked Steve’s chair away from the table. He fired all four rounds, shooting out Steve’s knees and elbows. As Steve screamed in pain, Sam brandished the cuffs and clapped them on the distracted Captain America, binding his hands in front of him.

During those 15 seconds of sheer madness, the rest of the room yelled in shock and (too little, too late) rushed to stop Sam and Dean.

“Wait! It’s a demon! Cap’s possessed!” Dean yelled as he was tackled to the ground by a furious Bucky, who kicked the gun out of Dean’s hand and then shoved Dean’s face into the carpet. Dean winced in pain as his arm was twisted up behind his back, Bucky’s metal arm wrenching it to the point that Dean was seriously concerned it was about to pop. 

“It’s true,” Sam croaked out, struggling to draw breath as the Black Widow choked him with her thighs. “Look at the video – his eyes flashed black once he came back from chasing after the kid.”

That had everyone drawing up short.

Shakily, Tony ordered, “Jarvis, run it.”

Jarvis enhanced the moment in the video as Steve’s eyes flickered black before blinking back to their normal sky blue when Bucky turned to talk to him. 

Stunned, everyone looked towards Steve as his pained screams warped into deranged laughter.

Releasing Dean, Bucky stood up and took a tentative step towards his oldest friend, “Steve?”

Blinking Steve’s bright blue eyes to reveal glistening black, the demon laughed, “You’re all so goddamn easy. Oh, pardon my language. This guy’s a fucking stickler for that shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed that chapter! I'd love any feedback :)


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